


When Moons Collide

by madaminferno



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: (just tweaked a bit), Alcohol, Dry Humor, End Game Spoilers, Explicit Language, Freeform, Game Dialogue, Gen, HELLA SPOILERS, I Don't Even Know, I Tried, LGBTQ Character, MGiT, Minor Original Character(s), Modern Girl in Thedas, Not self insert, OC, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV First Person, POV Inquisitor, POV Original Character, Please Don't Kill Me, Queer Character, Rating May Change, Religion, Sarcasm, Shenanigans, Solas Being Solas, Someday, Spoilers, Swearing, Tags Are Hard, The Fade, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Trespasser Spoilers, Val Royeaux, WALL O' TAGS, Wake up as elves, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?, and spirituality, but maybe eventual smut polygons of some sort, canon start, ch3 implied abuse, ch4 NPC death, ch4 blood, ch4 gore, ch6 NPC death, ch6 attempted sexual assault, dreams and such, edited haven, everyone gets a spoiler, everyone just hates tea, everyone just needs a hug, expanded haven, fade shit, fen'harel ma ghilana, herald OC, i am so so sorry, i am trash, i cant help it, i dont even know, idk i kinda just wanna put smut in here eventually, im sorry, in progress, including me, ir abelas, longfic, mostly canon, never not editing, no love triangles, no one knows what's happening, not even me, not you, pagan inquisitor, pansexual Inquisitor, spoiler dump, stays pretty true to the game so far, the inquisitor has a potty mouth, who thinks everyone is pretty, why am I doing this, you get a spoiler
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2018-12-24 17:53:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 40,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12017994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madaminferno/pseuds/madaminferno
Summary: Once upon a time, a nerd got sucked into a video game because reasons for shenanigans.  This has NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE.  hi yes hello this is a mess.





	1. Tutorial

**Author's Note:**

> OH WOW OKAY YOU OPENED IT Cool. Hi. Nice to meet you. I dunno, here, just... have this.

 “Tell me why I should not kill you now.”

 

_         Great.  I fell asleep playing video games again. _  The cadence of Cassandra's boots on stone echoed in my ears as my hand groped blindly forward, searching for the controller.   _ Right at the beginning, though? Jeez, I'm such a sucker for the character creator. _

 

        My eyes cracked open and I winced at the harsh green light.  Pain flared in my left palm about the same time I realized my wrists were bound and my knees were cold and sore.  A brief thought crossed my mind about impressive surround sound but was cut short when I  _ felt _ Cassandra come to a stop at my side and reach down for my manacles.  My eyes sprang wide at the rattle of chains, and my jaw dropped.

 

        “Explain this,” she demanded as she dangled  _ my _ glowing hand in front of  _ my  _ face. Her eyes locked with mine and I felt the blood drain from my cheeks.  With an impatient huff, she shoved my arm back to my lap and stormed off as I stammered some wimpy reply.

 

        I knew what would happen next, and I watched with disbelief as Leliana caught Cassandra when she lunged for me.   _ Well, fuck a duck. _  My mouth closed and I sat back on my heels; this was surely a dream.   _ There's no fucking way I’m in Dragon Age. _  Even though I already knew what I'd find, I searched my memory desperately for an explanation and was still frustrated when I couldn’t figure out how I ended up here.  My body seemed to run on autopilot, generating vague answers and jerky movements completely unconnected to my reflections; weird feeling, that.

 

        “Do you remember what happened?  How this began?”  Leliana stood before me, and I turned my palms up in placation.  

 

        The words seemed to fall from my lips before I realized it.  “I remember … running.   _ Things _ were chasing me.  A-and then … a woman?”  

 

        “A woman?”  Leliana’s voice took an interested lilt and I forged ahead.  

 

“She reached out to me, but then --”  

 

Cassandra maneuvered herself between the two of us, her hand resting on her sword.  “Go to the forward camp, Leliana.  I will take her to the rift.”  

 

Leliana left as Cass busied herself replacing my shackles with rope, and I followed the script as I knew it.  “What  _ did _ happen?”  

 

        “It will be easier to show you,” Cassandra muttered.  She led me up the stairs and outside and turned to face me just outside the main doors, her mouth a grim line though her eyes were full of grief. “The Breach,” she stated simply, and I was compelled to look up.  “It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour.  It’s not the only such rift, just the largest.  All were caused by the explosion at the conclave.”

 

        There are no words.

 

        I'd never owned a super-fancy gaming system, nor a powerful computer, so I always just made do with the lowest graphics settings on any game I wanted to play.  As such, I'd never truly understood what, really, the Breach looked like aside from some pixelated green sky-tornado.

 

        Even from the Chantry of Haven, I could see the debris rolling down and then falling upward from the massive hunks of Earth suspended in its vortex.  The clouds broiled, collided, and divided against each other like a frothing vat of milky acid, lightning bouncing between the currents as the contrasting winds generated immense charges.  Collateral damage littered the swirling void and floated at all sorts of odd angles, suggesting the whimsical anti-gravity of the Fade was bleeding through.  I saw a giant barn neatly spliced into halves, then smashed against the side of a mountain and rebuilt;  a boulder stopped in midair and reversed itself while adding a menacing spin;  and all the while, a writhing mist in the center dripped intermittently with spirits, occasionally overflowed, and was frequently obscured by the dust and sand and gravel of destroyed materials ever-orbiting the central abyss.  The surroundings were eerily silent aside from the frightened mutters of townsfolk and, ever behind that, the faint, otherworldly whispers of the Fade. It seems to both come from the center of the tear in the sky and from right next to my ear, and it sent horrid shivers down my spine.  

 

        “Unless we act, the breach may grow until it swallows the world.”  The Mark on my left hand flared, and the pain was unimaginable;  my legs gave way and I fell to my knees.  Cassandra crouched in front of me.  “Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads… and it is killing you.  It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time.”

 

_         Dream or not, gotta fix that first _ , I decided.  I gave Cassandra the in-game “I'll do whatever I can” reply, and just like at home this seemed to afford me a single tick of respect as she inclined her head to me.  Unfortunately I did have to pretend I'd never heard her monologue before, which – as much as I love her character – wasn't as comforting the fiftieth time.  

 

        “They have decided your guilt.  They need it.  The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry.  The Conclave was hers.  It was a chance for peace between mages and templars.  She brought their leaders together.  Now, they are dead.”

 

        We passed through the first arch and she stopped to turn to me.  “We lash out, like the sky. But we must think beyond ourselves, as she did. Until the breach is sealed.”  A cold sharpness at my wrist caught my attention but she had cut my bonds before I could protest. “There will be a trial. I can promise no more,” she huffed.  “Come.  It is not far.  Your Mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach.”  I gave her my thanks and evaluated the path ahead of me;  _  Can I even survive Thedas?   _ A quick glance at the sky for fortification, and I stepped onto the snowy road for my tutorial with Cassandra.

 

        I won't pretend it was easy.  I knew the beginning of this game by heart at this point, and I forgot I still actually had to pay attention.  The Mark flared halfway up the hill and caught me entirely off-guard;  I'd been too deep into figuring out my course of action over the next hour to pay attention to the spiking pain before it knocked me off my feet.  Cass gladly helped me up, but I lost the thread of her voice as my gaze landed on the arch ahead of us.  _ Great. Here we go. _

 

        Even though the “action” part of the bridge in-game had been obviously cel shaded, I had no such luxury here.  The bridge seemed even larger in person than in game, and I had no idea how far across I'd get before it went down, nor how far  _ down _ even was. Most things so far were measuring up, but it seemed as though some proportions might have been lost in translation from game to here, because  _ wow, Cass is so tall!   _

 

        She glanced warily at me as I trailed behind, walking gingerly without making it obvious and also failing to not make it obvious.  I frantically looked around as we got nearer the apex, trying both to catch a glimpse of how high we were and also looking for the super-conveniently-placed weapons I was supposed to find once we were on the ground.  Cass opened her mouth surely to ask what the fuck I was doing, but she didn't get to finish;  a chunk of Fade-glowing earth larger than my house hurtled towards us and slammed into the supports just beneath the arch of the bridge.  The thundering crack of shattering rock and the rumbling ripple of the earth beneath it quickly loosened the stones and we were both fighting for balance amid the rising dust and flashing green ether, and then everything gave way.  We tumbled down the slope, boulders and soldiers and rations and supplies tumbling with us, some crashing into the ice and sliding, others crashing through, and soon dusty-gray snow enveloped the whole of us.

 

        I heard Cassandra's disgusted noises a few yards to my left as she spit out the rock dust, same as me.  Debris shifted behind us and strangled a faint groan almost as soon as it started.  I searched for my companion's silhouette and found my way to my feet, albeit painfully, and began dusting myself off.  As the scene really started to clear out I looked down, and  _ wow, I've never been this thin in my life.  Short, too.   _ A thought occurred to me and I 'nonchalantly' reached up to tuck an errant lock behind my –  _ oh, shit  _ ––

 

        The green crackle on the ice was met with the ring of Cass's sword being unsheathed, but my heart was pounding for a different reason.   _ I'm a Dalish elf. Shit, I'm so bad at lore. And Elven.  Oh, I'm so fucked. _  Breathing fast, I glanced around for something to defend myself with and found only two short swords.  Dream world, real world, or game world, it didn't seem to matter – I always ended up playing a rogue.   _ I'm so dead. So, so dead. _

 

        An uncomfortable pins-and-needles feeling washed over my body, and while I was busy panicking internally I was also busy not dying.  The Dalish body I'd been spliced into had some instincts, it seemed, because I managed to hold my own against the one lesser demon that came my way.  Nothing fancy, but basic footwork and parry skills ensured I at least didn't hurt myself with my flailing.

 

        But there were no health bars, here, nor status markers, nor did the demon even visibly bleed, and I started to wonder if I was losing.  My blades were making contact, I wasn't really that slow, and I was able to block quite a few of its lunges, but my lungs were beginning to burn with exertion under the frigid mountain air and my palms were slipping on the hilts from stressful sweating.  

 

        A sword point burst through the demon's chest and stopped barely two inches from the tip of my nose and I froze, eyes wide.  My own swords were still in their aggressive positioning when the demon burst to nothing between us, and Cassandra's gaze locked with mine. Her eyebrows dropped and her lips tightened as she took in my stance; I let go of my weapons before she could even say her piece, and she hesitated as she watched them clatter on the ice.

 

        “Wait,” she started, and I felt my muscles relax. “I cannot protect you.  I should remember you came willingly.”  So far she had stayed pretty true to game, which was a relief. I knew that if I just tried to not be an asshole, I should be all right with her.  With Cass's permission I holstered my new weapons and followed her further up the path.

 

        By the time we'd sliced our way through various demons across the frozen lake I'd come to the conclusion that this was real, all of it.  Dream time doesn't progress so consistently, the dream-senses of touch, taste, smell, sight, and sound were never so constant and tangible, and the stitch I developed in my side as I cut down another wraith was  _ certainly _ a real sonofafuck.  The blood speckling my scout armor never moved aside from the throbbing, shallow wounds still oozing and untreated;  the ice-cold wind burned my nose and ears, and physics were reliable (at least for now).  All signs pointed to reality.

 

        I climbed the last steps to the next checkpoint sure that I should 'play the game' until established in Haven, but I was sorely tempted to change my mind when Solas grabbed my wrist to close the rift just as he had in every playthrough.  It snapped shut obediently and we both stepped away from each other, though for different reasons, and I rubbed my hand to try and squeeze out the last of the tingly fade-magic.  He raised an eyebrow as I said nothing, face blank as my thoughts tumbled over themselves.  He addressed Cassandra instead. “Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon her hand.  I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake – and it seems I was correct.”  

 

        “It could close the Breach itself.”  Cassandra frowned and rested both hands on the hilt of her sword.

 

        Solas' gaze returned to me. “Possibly. It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”  He seemed to be inviting me to comment, to say anything at all, but I kept my mouth shut.   _ How the fuck am I gonna handle  _ him?!  _ Knowing what I know, and as out of place as I am, he'll likely kill me before anything else can.   _

 

        Varric chuckled beside me and I turned.  “Good to know!  Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.”  He offered a charmingly lazy bow and a smirk with his intro. “Varric Tethras:  rogue, storyteller, and occasionally, unwelcome tagalong.”  

 

        I couldn't help it;  Varric was my fave.  Couldn't do without the dwarf in my party in either game he was in.  “Love the crossbow,”  I admitted.  Even in person, yeah, it was still badass.  

 

        “Me too,” he admitted.  “Bianca and I have been through a lot together.  And she’ll be great company in the valley.”  

 

        “Absolutely not!”  Cassandra finally stomped over with a glare trained on Varric's smug face.  “Your help is appreciated, Varric, but -- ”  

 

        “Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker?  Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore.  You need me.”  Varric comically wiggled his eyebrows at her, earning him a patented disgusted noise and an silent acquiescence to his inclusion.  She wandered off to check on wounded soldiers and Solas turned to me once again.  

 

        “My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions.  I am pleased to see you still live.”

 

        “He means, ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.'”

 

_         Play the game, dammit _ , I urged myself.   _ Don’t write him off just yet.   _ “Thank you.” I nodded my head in acknowledgment, and he returned the gesture.  “I quite like being alive, myself.”

 

        “Thank me if we manage to close the Breach without killing you in the process.  Cassandra, you should know,” he called over his shoulder, and her dark head popped up from her spot beside a dying scout.  “The magic involved here is unlike any I have ever seen.  While I cannot detect whether your prisoner is a mage, I find it difficult to imagine  _ any _ mage having such power to open or close the Breach.”

 

        “I thought as much.”  Her shoulders seemed to droop ever so slightly, though.  “We must get to the forward camp quickly.”

 

        I followed the group over a charred and broken barricade, smirking slightly as I remembered the “Press A to Jump” pop-up.  My feet fought for purchase on the snowy gravel, and Varric’s hand shot to my forearm to help steady me.  I flashed him a grim smile and we edged our way down the slope, another frozen lake coming into view.  

 

        Ah, yes, the party mechanic intro.  I didn’t have time to be self-conscious about being out of shape as shades had already spotted Cass -- out in front and charging, as always.  Solas sighed and tossed a protective barrier her way, and Varric wearily hefted Bianca.  It seemed I wasn’t the only one who was already tired.  

 

        Rogues started the game with the stealth ability, and so I found myself fingering my belt packs for anything that could possibly help.  My fingers brushed something hard and smooth, and when I brought it out I noticed it was a solid clay ball, stained black.  It was rather heavy, and shaking it gently produced a faint sloshing sound.  On a hunch, I threw it at my feet and was welcomed with an immediate cloud of black smoke -- and total invisibility.   _ Fucking sweet _ .  

 

        Cass held the attention of the two larger shades while Solas and Varric picked off a couple of wraiths nearby, but one wraith far to the left was unopposed.  I circled around behind it with my blades at the ready and before it could fire off another shot I sank both points into the bulk of its form, sacrificing stealth but hopefully gaining a flanking bonus.   _ It’s like poking Jell-O!   _ It let out a cry before it writhed, jerked, and then dispersed.  

 

        The rest of the demons proved to be easy work and were soon dispatched.  Cass was a graceful tank, dancing around with her shield to parry and flank;  Varric had a keen eye and excellent aim;  and Solas was no slouch, often maintaining our protection while still throwing out heavy offensive spells.  I was fairly impressed by how well they worked together despite the apparent tension.  All three were experienced in battle to the point they could protect themselves and each other… and then there was me.   _ Hi, hello, brand-new rogue here _ !

 

        There was all sorts of loot to be had in the area if Thedas continued to stay true to the game I knew, but I didn’t feel like trekking around to find it while time was pressing, and I didn’t feel like explaining to the others why we were stopping to rifle through empty cabins (surely they wouldn’t be as complacent as their digital counterparts).  We instead trudged up the grand staircase together, fighting the cold wind the whole way.   _ I’ll be lucky to still have a nose after this. _

 

        “So  _ are _ you innocent?”  Varric’s voice piped up behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder.  The steps didn’t seem to bother him in the least, but then again, he  _ was _ born and raised in Kirkwall which was freakin’ staircase city, so he was probably used to them.  

 

        “I don’t know.  I don’t remember.”  I answered as honestly as I could, but even I knew how weak of an alibi that was.  

 

        “That’ll get you every time.  Should have spun a story.”  

 

        “That’s what  _ you _ would have done,”  Cassandra huffed, and I almost heard the eye-roll in her voice.    

 

        “It’s more believable, and less prone to result in premature execution.”  

 

        It made me happy that my group was true to character so far.  One less variable to account for if I was going to get out of here alive.  Plus, the party banter could get  _ hilarious _ depending on who was present.  

 

        With such pleasant thoughts it didn’t feel like it took nearly as long to get to the forward camp, but soon we arrived (albeit covered in demon goop and a fair amount of blood).  I could see the tension leave their shoulders as soon as we shut the rift blocking the gate and were once again surrounded by solid structures and soldiers, even if they weren’t likely able to protect us from the debris falling from the Breach.   


        Solas split off almost immediately once inside the camp;  seemed like he was looking for a new staff.  Varric ambled over to a crate and hopped up, laying Bianca across his lap to clean her gently.  Only Cass headed straight for Leliana and Roderick, and I begrudgingly followed.  This would  _ not _ be fun.  

 

        “Ah, here they come,”  Roderick’s sneering voice carried well from thirty yards off and it still got my hackles up.  I forced my face blank as we got closer to their table.  

 

        Leliana offered a rare half-smile as she spotted us.  “You made it.  Chancellor Roderick, this is --”  

 

        “I know who she is.”  His face was no better in person.  My eyes narrowed.   _ I hate this guy. _  “As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution.”  

 

        Cassandra was  _ pissed _ .  “Order  _ me _ ?  You are a glorified clerk, a bureaucrat!”  

 

        “And you are a thug, but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry.”  

 

        “We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor,”  Leliana corrected him stiffly, “as you well know.”  

 

        “Justinia is dead!”  Rodrick rubbed a hand over his face;  under the arrogance, he grieved for her, too.  “We must elect a replacement and obey her orders on the matter.”  

 

        “What about the Breach?”  I fixed my gaze on Roderick.  He returned it for only a few seconds before anger twisted his features.    

 

        “ _ You _ brought this on us in the first place!”  He slammed his open palm on the desk in front of him.  I would pity him if he weren’t such an ass to the very end.  

 

        The dialogue continued as normal with the Chancellor throwing a tantrum and Justinia’s Left and Right Hands kept trying to assuage him, to no avail.  Solas gently nudged my shoulder with his own as he moved beside me, a fresh and uncracked plain mage staff in the crook of his right arm.  “They can’t decide?”  he murmured, and I nodded.  

 

        I knew what came next, so I turned to check and -- yep, Varric was holstering Bianca.  He made eye contact and nodded, the universal  _ be right there _ gesture.  

 

        “How do  _ you _ think we should proceed?”  Cass turned to me.  I’d already decided despite having ignored the conversation until now.   _ One of the best perks of having played this goddamn intro, like, a hundred times. _

 

        “Mountain path,” I declared.  Leliana looked pleased, but Cass frowned.  “Look, I don’t believe all the scouts are dead, but they will be if we don’t hurry.  Falling in battle beside your brothers in arms is different than being cornered by a demon alone on a mountain.  We should save them if we can.”  

 

        “Leliana.”  Cass didn’t have to elaborate;  Leliana immediately began rounding up the remaining soldiers on the bridge.  

 

        “On your head be the consequences, Seeker.”   _ Fucker just has to have the last word, apparently, _ I thought as we left him in the camp alone with the dead and wounded and a pair of Chantry sisters to tend them.  

 

        The path to the abandoned mine was narrow and precarious;  we slogged through knee-deep snow single file and with great care, but there were still a couple of near misses when footing gave way.  We made it to the top none the worse for wear and I muttered a quick prayer to divinity as thanks.  Solas raised an eyebrow but didn’t call me on it.  I’d have to be a little more careful in the future to act more Dalish, if possible.   _ Right, like that’ll work.  Pretty sure an immortal elf is gonna see right through me. _

 

        “I hope no one is afraid of heights,”  I chuckled weakly as I reached for the first ladder.  I ignored the glance between Solas and Varric --  _ come on, it’s a common fear, I’m not weird _ \-- and began to climb.  Below me, the conversation continued while I focused on not falling to my death.  

 

        “What manner of tunnel is this?”  Solas peered upwards, a hand shielding his eyes from the glare of the Breach.  “A mine?”  

 

        “Part of an old mining complex. These mountains are full of such paths.”  Cassandra’s armor clinked gently as she made her way up the ladder next.  

 

        Varric took to the rungs behind her after double-checking Bianca’s straps.  “And your missing soldiers are in there somewhere?”

 

        “Along with whatever has detained them.”   _ Hahaha, egg caboose. _

 

        “We shall see soon enough,”  Cass muttered.  

 

_         I don’t remember there being so many ladders in this part _ , I thought as I huffed my way to the sixth platform.   _ Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look -- Too late. _

 

        “Hey, kid, don’t look down, okay?”  Varric patted my shoulder in sympathy as he strode by, and all I could do was nod.  I had my back to the edge, and I could feel my legs shivering from exertion and fear even though I was kneeling on the aged wood deck.  With my eyes shut tight I focused on my breathing and tried very, very hard to ignore how the structure swayed slightly in the wind.  

 

        “Here,” came Solas’ voice from above, and I looked up.  There was no judgment on his face, just an open curiosity as he extended a hand.  I hesitated for probably longer than I should before I took it;  I still had no idea how to treat him.   _ Don’t forget:  he’s a villain with no remorse. _

 

        He was stronger than he looked;  Solas hefted me to my feet easily with just the one arm.  “Thank you,”  I offered, and he simply inclined his head as if to say,  _ But of course. _

 

        Shouts rang out from the ledge above us and we hurried to catch up.  Cass, always impatient, had already engaged a pack of shades at the entrance to the mine and Varric strafed around the wooden rail encircling the plateau trying to lend his support while minding the cliff edge inches behind his heels.   

 

        It was over almost as quickly as it began.  Solas’ barriers proved to be incredibly strong -- if short-lived -- and Bianca did quite a bit of damage on her own, even against demons.  Cass beat the last one down with her shield and an exhausted, annoyed grunt before sheathing her sword.  I’d managed to stab one, but she’d nearly finished them all by the time I could get into position.  She shrugged a shoulder at me;  no hard feelings there.   _ Cool.  She seems like she’ll be easy to get along with. _  Then I remembered what exactly that meant;  I’d likely be living with her and the rest of my inner circle and eventually  _ the entire fucking Inquisition _ for several months, maybe even years.   _ Fuck a duck. _

 

        “I get the feeling you’ve never been up against so many demons before,” Varric began as he sidled up next to me.  “Am I right?”  

 

_         Tread carefully. _  “Yes.  I’ve never actually fought a demon before today.”  Cass lit a torch and proceeded deeper into the mine with the three of us trailing behind her.  

 

        “Never?”  came Solas’ bewildered reply.   _ Fuck. _

 

        “Nope.”  I kept my gaze focused on the torch in the Seeker’s hand.    

 

        “Have you ever fought another person before?”  Varric tried to pry further, and I realized I couldn’t afford to get too descriptive this early on.  I needed some time alone in Haven to come up with some sort of story.  

 

        “Not with weapons.”  Fist fights were one thing, but swordfighting to kill was entirely new to me.  Obviously my lack of skill showed, but at least I wasn’t actively harming the group other than maybe slowing them down a little.  

 

        “You  _ are _ Dalish, are you not?”  

 

        “I don’t know, Solas.  Am I?”  I rolled my eyes at him.  I couldn’t help it!   _ Oh my various gods, I just sassed the Dread Wolf. _  The two companions exchanged a look.   _ Wow, am I really  _ that _ bad in a fight? _

 

        Silence descended over us all as we approached the end of the mine.  We all saw the bodies.  Cassandra’s shoulders sagged -- losing anyone would be hard on her, I could tell.  She’d already lost so much today.   

 

        “Guess we found the soldiers.”  He knelt beside one, fingers on her neck.  After a few moments he shook his head with a heavy sigh and stood.  

 

        “That cannot be all of them!”  Cass looked around, desperation on her face and frustration in her fists.  

 

        “So the others could be holed up ahead?”  

 

        “Our priority must be the Breach.”  Solas wasn’t without compassion, but he did have a point.  “Unless we seal it soon, no one is safe.”  

 

        “I’m leaving  _ that _ to our elven friend here.”  Varric winked at me and I automatically smiled.   _ Best dwarf.  Please be my friend! _

 

        Cass was several yards down the rocky stairs before we set out to follow her, and she spotted people as she turned a corner.  “You’re alive!”  she called, but whatever else was said was drowned out by the crackling of the rift.  We reached flat ground and broke out at a run to join the fray;  Solas threw his hand out and covered the weakened soldiers in a protective barrier as he slid to a stop at a reasonable distance.  Varric flipped Bianca into his hands and immediately pinned a giant gangly demon to the stone wall behind it before reloading his weapon with the flip of a lever.   _ Damn, that’s efficient. _

 

        I stealthed myself with one of my remaining smoke bombs and slid behind a revenant.  The mana sliding across its withered skin as it prepared to cast was practically tangible and almost slimy, and a shiver ran down my spine.  I lunged with both swords.  The blades sank sickeningly deep into its torso and it gurgled a scream, then disappeared out from under me and I unceremoniously plopped into the snowbank, sliding several feet before coming to a stop.  Brushing the hair from my eyes and looking around --  _ I forgot these fuckers teleported _ \-- I finally spotted it on the other side of Solas.  Its clawed hand reached back, its eyes trained on his movements --  

 

        “Solas!  Behind you!”  I yelled, and he immediately sidestepped out of the way, trusting me at my word rather than wasting time.  He was already bringing his staff back around, frost whipping about the focal crystal, but the revenant was charged and waiting and he wasn’t moving fast enough.  I was too far away.   _ He’s gonna get his face blasted off! _

 

        Tingles spread throughout my body again and even though I’d been yards away and helpless I suddenly found myself directly behind the revenant itself;  Solas spotted me as the shadows fell away and his eyes widened in surprise.   _ Fuck if I know, dude.  Guess I just learned a new ability _ .  I instinctively thrust my blades upwards into the back of the demon’s head while I still had surprise on my side and it went limp, crashing to the ground as its magic died.  Solas and I stared at each other over the dissolving demon’s corpse.  My heart beat furiously in my panic, but he didn’t seem to know quite what to make of me.  He eventually afforded me a nod as thanks, and I let out the breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.  The elf gestured vaguely at the rift, and I stepped forward to oblige.   _ Easy peasy. _

 

        “Sealed, as before.  You are becoming quite proficient at this.”  He sounded pleased.  I could only shrug.  

 

        “Thank the Maker you finally arrived, Lady Cassandra. I don’t think we could have held out much longer.”  A soldier approached our group, her helmet in her hands.  She had a righteous black eye and a freshly-broken nose, but she’d be all right.  

 

        “Thank our prisoner, Lieutenant. She insisted we come this way.”

 

        “The prisoner? Then you…?”  

 

        I obliged, as per the game script.  “It was worth saving you if we could.”  

 

        The skepticism in her gaze was replaced with something akin to awe.  “Then you have my sincere gratitude.”  

 

        Cassandra resumed her authoritarian mien.  “The way into the valley behind us is clear for the moment.  Go, while you still can.”  The soldier nodded and rallied her surviving troops.  We watched them disappear up the path to the mine and turned to face the Breach.  

 

        “We’re close,”  Varric muttered.  I could see the blackened, twisted peaks of corrupted stone that once formed the Temple over the treeline.  I knew what we’d find at the bottom, but I didn’t have a choice.  

 

        I had to play the game.  

 

        It was worse than I could have imagined.  Way, way worse.  The disgustingly-sweet stench of charred bodies was heavy, and could not be mitigated by shoving my nose under my cowl (I tried).  I fought my own rising bile as I gingerly stepped between corpses frozen in agonizing terror.  There must have been hundreds surrounding the front of the temple.  

 

        “The Temple of Sacred Ashes,” Solas murmured.  His gaze was up at the ruins rather than the carnage at our feet, and I snorted.   _ Figures. _  Gray eyes snapped to mine at the derisive sound and I hurriedly moved my attention to something else.   _ Uh, whoops. _

 

        “That is where you walked out from the Fade and our soldiers found you. They said a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was.”  Cassandra stood before a Templar’s corpse.  Her face was unreadable.  

 

_         I know who she was _ .  I kept that to myself as I made my way inside;  even more burning corpses lined the halls, and the smell seemed to worsen.  My hand flew to my lips as I fought my gag reflex.   _ Gods, this is horrible. _

 

        Leliana appeared shortly thereafter, and she and Cassandra discussed tactics as I took in the scene beyond the balcony where we gathered.  Solas and Varric stood silently beside me, likely just as awestruck as I.  

 

        The crater where the temple once stood was massive, easily the size of two or three football fields.  I could see the red lyrium reaching for the sky in massive spires all around the edge, the melted stone interspersed throughout.  Pebbles and dust swirled in the air around us as the vacuum of the Breach high above reached even the ground.  Everywhere I looked there were corpses;  some seemed whole, while others had been burned or crushed beyond recognition.  It was an arena of destruction and death.  Even the soldiers filing along the remaining pathways were gravely silent, both the blasphemy and the tragedy weighing heavily on them.  The center pillar was massive and crumbling, melted on one side, and the statue that stood atop it no longer had a face.  In front of it was a massive crystallized rift;  closed, but not well.  

 

        I turned when I felt movement behind me and came face to face with Cassandra.  “This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?”  

 

        “I’ll try.”  I cast a nervous glance at the Breach in the sky.  

 

        Solas seemed to understand.  “This rift was the first and is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach.  You may need not leave the ground at all.”

 

        “Great.”  My voice cracked a little and Solas quirked a small, sympathetic smile in my direction.   _ It’s not  _ all _ height, just ridiculous heights… _

 

        “ **Now is the hour of our victory.  Bring forth the sacrifice** .”  Corypheus’ voice boomed as the rift crackled with Fade energy.  Most in the group startled, myself included.  

 

        “What are we hearing?”  Cassandra searched the sky for answers but it was Solas who replied.  

 

        “At a guess:  the person who created the Breach.”

 

_         The person who created the Breach _ , I mocked in my head.   _ Like you don’t know  _ exactly _ who that is. _

 

        I knew we’d find no purchase down to the Temple floor from the starting point and began to wander to the right, checking the balcony rail for gaps and for any makeshift stairs or forgivable slopes.  It was slow going, but my companions followed.  When we approached the blighted lyrium, I heard Varric shudder.  “You know this is red lyrium, Seeker.”  

 

        “I see it, Varric.”  

 

        “But what’s it  _ doing _ here?”   _ Oh, man.  I’m so sorry, Varric.  You’ll find out eventually.   _

 

        “Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the temple, corrupted it…”   _ Close, Solas, but not quite.   _

 

        “It’s evil. Whatever you do, don’t touch it.”  

 

        As we rounded the far end of the Temple I spotted a possible way down only a few yards away.  Corypheus’ voice sprouted forth once more from the rift as I got closer:  “ **Keep the sacrifice still.** ”  

 

        “ **Someone, help me!** ”  I flinched from the desperate echo, and the knowledge that her fate could not be changed.  

 

        “That’s Divine Justinia’s voice!”  cried Cassandra.  

 

        All I could do was focus on not falling on my ass as I sort of slid down to the lowest level but I still ended up with pants caked in cold dirt.  The Mark grew warm and pulsed hard as more echoes were brought forth.  

 

        “ **Someone, help me!** ”  Justinia’s voice repeated, but this time mine answered:  

 

        “ **What’s going on here?!** ”  

 

        “That was your voice.”  Cassandra whispered in awe and confusion.  “Most Holy called out to you. But…”

 

        A bright light flashed out across the entire Temple and when it cleared, ghostlike images towered over us front and center.   _ And now you’ll  _ see  _ what happened _ , I thought.  I didn’t need to look at her to know Cassandra was fixated on the image of Divine Justinia hovering in the air, suspended by magic, terrified, begging, overshadowed by the menacing silhouette of her captor.  

 

        “ **What’s going on here?!** ”  my voice heralded my own ghost’s entrance.  Appropriately, I appeared to have unsheathed my weapons when I walked in on a cult ritual.   _ Good.  The game always made it look so casual, just, ‘Whoopdie-do, you’re sacrificing the lady Pope?  Oh, jolly good, right-o!’ _

 

        “ **Run while you can! Warn them!** ”  Justinia struggled against her invisible bonds.  

 

        Cold chills ran down my spine as the horrible shadow representing Corypheus took notice of ghost-me.  “ **We have an intruder.** ”  His mutated arm reached towards me -- the  _ real _ me, no less -- and he bellowed, “ **Slay the elf** **.** ”  

 

        We had seen what we were meant to see.  White light erupted from the rift, temporarily blinding us all.  I was still blinking when Cassandra reached me.  “You  _ were _ there! Who attacked? And the Divine, is she…? Was this vision true? What are we seeing?”  

 

        I knew the questions were coming, but I couldn’t allow myself to answer any of them.  I knew too much.  “I don’t remember,” I whispered, but even I heard the lie in my own voice.   _ I am soooooo royally fucked.   _

 

        “Echoes of what happened here.  The Fade bleeds into this place.”  Solas eyed me with a new sense of caution, and I froze.  He stared for just another moment before moving on.  “This rift is not sealed, but it is closed… albeit temporarily.  I believe with the mark, the rift can be opened and then sealed properly and safely.  However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side.”

 

        “That means demons!”  Cass announced, and soldiers around the pit began taking up arms.  “Stand ready!”  

 

_         Shit, this is really happening.  I’m really doing this.  I’m in the game and I’m about to try and save Thedas _ .  I approached the rift, took a deep breath, and raised my left palm;  the Mark connected with the swirling, leaking Fade as if it wanted to, and energy coasted between my hand and the tear in the Veil.  Opening a rift was a much different feeling than closing one;  the hair on my arms stood on end and my stomach flipped in protest, but I refused to break the connection.  

 

        Wider still the rift grew, falling open like bricks tumbling out of a wall, until finally the Pride demon burst forth.  It hit the ground with such force most of us fell to our feet.  I rolled to the side and stood, my hands on the hilts of my swords as Cass rallied the soldiers nearest her for a frontal charge.  Everyone was focused on the demon, but I knew it would kick our collective asses if I didn’t keep the rift as a priority.  


 

        The first time Pride’s guard fell, the rift broke the connection from my Mark rather than the other way around, almost as if it needed a breather.  Thankfully I needed one myself, and leaned against the massive pillar, panting.  Pride dropped to one knee and Cass, renewed, called for another onslaught.   _ Can I do this?  Really?   _

 

        It wasn’t so easy for the second round.  Each time I got near the rift I was accosted by a shade or smacked to the ground by one of Pride’s lightning whips.  Despite rationing them I was running low on health potions, and my reactions were getting slow.  Demons were swarming the soldiers and Pride was back on its feet;  I needed to end this.  

 

        I planted my feet hard in the dirt, determined to find traction.   _ I will not be moved. _  My right hand supported my left as I raised it once more to the rift, made the connection, and forced all of my will to focus on slamming that door.  The pull of the rift became intense, and I could feel my body lifting slightly as if drawn to it.  

 

        Pride gave a defeated groan far to my right and cheers erupted as Cass buried her blade in its skull.  My shoulders heaved with the effort of breathing under the Mark’s power, but I fought to close the rift still.  The connection held longer than any previous time, and I felt eyes on me, desperate, hopeful, praying, even as my toes lost purchase on the soil and I dangled in the air.  

 

        Failure was not an option.  

 

        The rift snapped shut with such force it blew me backwards;  my spine connected with a boulder sending up a shock of bright pain that bounced about in my skull, and the last thing I saw before I fell unconscious and slid to the ground was the still-swirling green menace high in the sky, unphased.  


	2. Solas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She just really sucks at keeping secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I'm just gonna go ahead and post this because why the fuck not. Also because the first chapter is pretty much mostly just already established game canon and there's no meat yet. HERE'S YER MEAT, Y'ALL

I awoke to the sound of my door gently closing, and immediately I was in pain.  Every movement sliced my breath short and I wrapped an arm around my chest even as I rolled to the side and sat up.  My fingers probed my ribs, looking for injuries, and I was dismayed to find at least two broken bones beneath a layer of stiff, fresh bandages.   _ At least my lungs feel okay.   _

 

        Thoughts swirled around my head, full of confusion and alarm and fatigue.  I immediately recognized the weird garb of Haven’s Herald and let out a (pained) sigh.   _ Still real.  Still here.  Still fucked.   _

 

        “Oh! I didn’t know you were awake!”  The elven servant dropped the box she was carrying which scared me almost as much as I had scared her.  

 

        “Oh, uh, hello.”  There was no way this wasn’t about to be awkward.   _ I always hated this scene _ .  “What’s your name?”  

 

        “Elan,” came her shy reply, and she dropped to her knees in worship.  “I beg your forgiveness, and your blessing!  I am but a humble --”  

 

        “It’s all right, Elan.”  Her head jerked up as I joined her on the floor and reached for her hands to hold them gently in my own.  “You don’t have to kneel.  I’m just a person.  Are we back in Haven?”  

 

        The script carried on.  “Yes, m’lady.  They say you saved us.”  Her words were just a whisper and she trembled like a leaf.  I stood, gently pulling her with me.  “The breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand. It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days!”

 

        “Are they waiting for me in the Chantry?”  I asked.  This was the wrong thing to say.  

 

        Elan immediately withdrew her hands as if burned and stumbled backwards to the door.  “Lady Cassandra will want to know you’ve wakened. She said ‘at once’!”   _ Oh, no.  Please don’t go! _  “‘At once,’ she said!”  As quickly as she’d appeared she was gone, and I sighed at the empty cabin.   _ I’ll find her someday.  I’ll protect her if I have to fold her up and stick her in my pocket.   _

 

        I was starting to get annoyed at my own foresight.  Knowing what was coming was useful as far as plot goes, but for mundane little things it just made me more anxious.  I was  _ not _ looking forward to walking to the Chantry while everyone stared at me.   _ Maybe there’s a way behind the buildings… _  Alas, nada.  There was no way I could get to the church unseen, and spotting the Herald sneaking around behind the buildings to avoid crowds would … send a weird message I wasn’t ready to send.  

 

_         No help for it, then _ , I thought, and threw open the front door.  I wasn’t greeted with the quiet reverence and whispered support as in the game;  instead, I got cheers.  

        There were more people in Haven than I would have thought.  Hundreds of people packed the footpaths, barely held back by Cullen’s soldiers.  It wasn’t thunderous applause or anything terribly loud, but they were happy to see me and that was new.  The last time I’d seen these folks was when Cassandra had led me from my cell to the Breach, and they had  _ loathed _ me then, when they were convinced I was guilty.   _ I can’t hold it against them.  Everyone grieves differently. _

 

        When I padded up the Chantry steps I had a bouquet of assorted wildflowers in my arms, a flower crown, and at least three marriage proposals.  Soldiers closed the doors behind me to shut out the crowds and I was suddenly ensconced in relative silence.  I gingerly picked the flower crown from my head -- placed there by a little kid,  _ I’m totally keeping this _ \-- and laid the pretty bundle there beside the door.  Winter blossoms wouldn’t change Roderick’s mind.  

 

        I steeled myself against the criticisms I knew were coming, but it was still jarring to open the War Room and immediately face an accusatory finger.  

 

        “Chain her!”  Roderick demanded.  “I want her prepared to travel to the capital for trial.”  My back stiffened and my hands automatically reached for weapons that weren’t there, but Cassandra negated his order.  

 

        “Disregard that.  Leave us,” she waved them off without hardly a glance, only glaring at the Chancellor.  Thankfully the guards obeyed her.  

 

        “You walk a dangerous line, Seeker,”  he intoned.

 

        “The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat.  I will not ignore it.  Though it is not the only threat we face.”  

 

        Leliana moved to stand beside Cass, her hands cradled at the small of her back.  “Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others – or have allies who yet live.”

 

        “ _ I _ am a suspect?”  

 

        “You, and many others.”  

 

        “But not the prisoner,”  Chancellor Roderick sneered at me.  “How lucky for her.”  

 

        “I heard the voices in the Temple.  Everyone who was there heard them.  Most Holy called out to her for aid, not mercy.”  Leliana nodded in agreement, but Roderick only scoffed.  

 

        “So her survival, that  _ thing _ on her hand… all a coincidence?”  

 

        “Providence,”  Cass said.  “The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour.”  

 

        “Uh.”  I couldn’t help but to interject.  “So you changed your mind about me?”  

 

        Cassandra met my gaze without wavering.  “I was wrong. Perhaps I still am. I will not, however, pretend you were not exactly what we needed when we needed it.”

 

        “The Breach remains and your mark is our only hope of closing it.”  Leliana seemed impatient when it came to facts, as if the course of action should be obvious and straightforward.  

 

        “This is not for you to decide,”  Roderick growled, and Cass finally lost it.  She reached under the table and brought out that giant Inquisition tome, slamming it nearly where his hands had been placed on the map.  

 

        “You know what this is, Chancellor?  A writ from the Divine, granting us authority to act.  As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.”  She fixed him with a murderous glare and advanced, her finger poking him in the chest as he retreated to the wall.  “We  _ will  _ close the Breach, we will  _ find  _ those responsible, and we will  _ restore order  _ with or with _ out _ your approval.”  The Chancellor shivered, glared defiantly, and when he realized he wouldn’t be heard in that room he swept out in a huff.  Cass watched him go, but Leliana just rolled her eyes before turning her attention to the book.  Her fingers gracefully traced the emblem on the cover.  

 

        “This is the Divine’s directive:  Rebuild the Inquisition of old;  find those who will stand against the chaos.  We aren’t ready.  We have no leader, no numbers, and now, no Chantry support.”  

 

        “But we have no choice:  We must act now.”  As written, Cassandra turned to me.  “With you at our side.”

 

        “I’m in.”  No need to drag it out;  I’d made the decision days ago.  I was a part of this now and until I figured out the why and how, I’d need to play along.  

 

        “Good.  We need you as much as you need us.”  She offered her hand and I shook it, sealing the deal.   _ It’s official;  I’m in this for the long haul. _  “Leliana and I will call a council;  we have much to plan.  Please feel free to discover the rest of Haven.  We will send a messenger when we are ready.”  

 

        It felt a little anticlimactic to be dismissed as opposed to the glorious little cutscene that was supposed to happen there, but I went with it.  I did need to become acquainted with the real version of the tiny town, and I had an alibi to plan, and I needed to figure out what to do about Solas.   _ So much to do, so little, little time.   _

 

        I busied myself with the mundane little fetch quests and introductions I knew to be found nearby, all the while avoiding the companions as much as possible.  Josephine, Cullen, Cassandra, and Leliana were all still holed up in the Chantry hours later with no word.  I’d recovered the notes for Adan, had the awkward conversation with Threnn, regretted meeting Seggrit, and even popped in the tavern to say hello to Flissa and ask for supper to be delivered to my future advisors by the time the sun was beginning to set over the valley.  The soldiers seemed content with their campfires and gamey stew and the villagers mostly seemed to eat in their homes, so the walkways were fairly deserted under the orange sky.  It was much more serene than I would have thought.  

 

        Haven was larger than the game version, and more complex.  Of course it was still a small town in its own right, but not the hollow framework of its digital counterpart.  There were four more tiers inside the gates that I hadn’t planned on for a total of seven, and there were a couple of extra merchants sandwiched between the modest homes.  There was a small schoolhouse;  a fishmonger;  a tailor who apparently also moonlighted as a butcher;  there was even a woodworker who specialized in handmade rocking chairs for children.  The baker nearly begged me to take a loaf of fresh, crusty bread, which I eventually (hungrily) obliged.  

 

        The third and fourth tiers met in a flat plateau that served as a sort of town square right in the middle of Haven.  In the center was an unused, dreary platform, likely for festivals and such, and market stalls lined the perimeter.  I found out from a local dairy farmer’s booth that the whole valley was dotted with little homesteads who come to town to trade and visit and gossip.  I thought of Corypheus and it got just a tiny bit harder to keep a smile on my face after that;  the sweet matron of the dairy farm family had a keen eye for gloom, and shooed me away with my hands full of a rather nice hunk of cheese to go with my bread.

 

        Down the path was the mill, diligently crushing the grain, and nearby was a large storehouse full of dry goods.  I waved at the smiths on my way by the stables and received a variety of greetings from grunts to suspicious looks to cheery hails.  The furthest wall of spiked logs was actually outside the stables by a good margin --  _ Oh thank the gods, that might actually help later  _ \-- but the soldiers were still stationed outside, as per the game, though the camp itself was way,  _ way _ larger, disappearing into the trees and hills to the right of the frozen lake.  

 

        I made my way down to my favorite spot, the one I had wished so intensely that I could experience myself:  the dock.  The single, tiny little dock that apparently wasn’t single  _ or  _ tiny;  it jutted farther out into the ice than seemed necessary, and was framed on either side by smaller siblings.  I focused entirely on finishing the last of the buttery bread and creamy cheese in my hands because I wanted to see the view altogether at once for the most effect.  

 

        Never one for napkins, I brushed the crumbs from my fingertips off on my pants and sat on the front edge of the dock as I came to it.  It was only minutes until the sun disappeared entirely, and I knew it would be beautiful.  

 

_         Worth it, _ I thought for a moment as I gazed upon the postcard-worthy vista in front of me.  The mountains perfectly highlighted the setting star, the days’ last rays bouncing off the snow-covered peaks in glittery shafts of light radiating ever outwards.  The trees were dusted with powder, outlining each and every pine needle and dormant branch with inhuman precision, and icicles shimmered and danced in a rainbow of colors.  Far overhead the sky was already beginning to fade to a velvety indigo, and I realized that I’d get to see every single star tonight without the light pollution of the city to hide them.  

 

        I was so deep in my reverie, I never heard him stroll up behind me.  “You’ve been busy today,”  Solas murmured, and I turned to find him staring at the same scene I had been.   _ Great.  I’ve avoided you all day;  couldn’t you have stayed hidden for a few more hours?   _

 

        “Mhm.”  Despite my intentionally lukewarm response, he didn’t move.  I went back to watching the sun and tried to forget he was there.  After the seconds ticked by and I realized he wasn’t going to truly impose, I allowed myself to relax and just enjoy the view.  It didn’t hurt to share.  

 

        We silently watched the last of the daylight fade behind the far rim of the valley.  “Does it cause you much pain?”  

 

        It took a second for my brain to catch up.  “The Mark?  No.  Only frustration.”  

 

        “I imagine such a mystery is indeed incredibly frustrating.”   _ Yeah, no, I can already tell this won’t work.  Too much bullshit, too much dancing around.   _

 

        “I need to talk to you.”  I leaned back on my hands and tilted my chin up all the way so I could see him, albeit upside-down.   _ This is my only choice.  This is the only way I’ll survive Thedas.   _

 

        “Of course.  What would you like to talk about?”  His eyebrows rose slightly in mild interest, expecting something mundane.   _ Oooooh-ho-ho-hoooo buddy, just wait. _

 

        “Not here.”   _ How to do this without getting murdered before I can finish… ? _

 

        Solas shifted on his feet in obvious discomfort.  He switched his staff from one hand to the other before responding simply, “Where?”  

 

        Even inverted the way he was in my perspective, I could see the nervous twitch of his fingers and I couldn’t help my smirk.   _ You and me both _ .  “Wherever you feel safest, Fen.”  

 

        Emotions cascaded over his face rapid-fire before he caught himself and I could see the shutters closing behind his eyes but there was no mistaking the underlying expression before he’d gotten it under control:  fury.  Pure, unadulterated fury.  If I hadn’t been sitting I probably would have fallen over in fear.   _ I am so, so out of my depth.   _

 

        Without a word Solas spun on his heel and strode back up the hill, shoulders stiff and hands folded behind his back, staff neatly tucked into its holster across his spine.  I flopped over and scrambled up to follow, not daring to walk beside him but instead attempting to remain a respectful distance -- well, out of staff-reach, at least.  

 

        Unsurprisingly, he led me straight past the tavern up seven flights of stairs and directly to the cabin he’d claimed as his own.  He did not invite me inside but neither did he slam the door in my face as I expected, so I felt it was safe to enter -- as safe as a wolf’s den.   _ Hardy har. _

 

        Solas busied himself around the room lighting candles and muttering spells, and I could feel the Fade responding.  He pointed to a chair in the center of the room and I sat obediently;  I’d identified myself as a threat but I wasn’t dead yet, so I had value enough to make him hesitate.  His feet traced a clockwise path around the main room of the cabin while he laid various glyphs along the floors, walls, and windowsills even as he triple-checked everything was securely locked.  Finally, he shut the door, bolted it, and turned to me.  The elf was as still as stone, eyes wary.  “Talk.”  

 

        “You are confident that no one can overhear anything we say?  Nor see?”  

 

        For a moment he did and said nothing.  Eventually he strode to a cabinet and withdrew a thin blanket to throw over the window.  “Yes.  Talk.”  

 

_         All right.  Cards on the table.  Don’t get distracted, just summarize as best as possible.   _ “I am going to tell you a ridiculous story, and you are going to believe it because your truth is my proof.”  

 

        That got his attention.  He turned his head slowly to me, blinked, and replied,  “Go on.”  

 

        “I'm not an elf.”  I paused to see how he would react to such a weird statement.  “In any sense of the word.”  

 

        His lips twisted and an eyebrow slid upwards, but he merely repeated himself, dryly:  “Go ooonnnn.”

 

        “I come from an entirely different world than Thedas.”  Solas rolled his eyes and turned to leave, but I threw out my hands in protest.  “Wait, wait--  _ wait _ , damn it!  I name you, Fen'Harel, and I ask you to listen!”  

 

        We both froze.  I prayed to every deity I knew by name that I hadn't raised my voice too far, that I hadn't crossed a line, that I hadn't blown his cover, that I hadn't signed my own death certificate even as I could practically see the gears turning through the back of his head.  Several heartbeats passed without a single movement from him, and so I dangled my life line,  something no living Dalish could possibly know:  Fen’harel’s ancient password.  “Ar-melana dirthavaren.  Revas vir-anaris,” I whispered, and half a moment later he relaxed.  

 

        My hands dropped to my lap and the tension melted from my body with a sigh.  He turned, his head cocked to the side, and looked at me -- truly looked at me -- for the first time since we'd met.  I watched his gaze roam with a discerning, clinical squint as he searched for… something, I dunno.  His mana brushed against the skin at the back of my wrist and I shivered.  

 

        Solas, not Fen’Harel, dragged a chair to the middle of the room opposite mine and sat facing me, his knees crossed and staff across his lap, fingers laid delicately across the grain.  “Tell me everything.  I will not interrupt again.”  

 

_         He's too much the scholar to just let that go _ .  His eyes remained unsettlingly blank as I recounted what I could of the story so far, about how I knew the major plots and players already, and then interrupted myself to start at the  _ real _ beginning.  

 

        “See, I come from a world whose technology is … at least 1,000 years ahead of anything in Thedas.  And there is no magic.  At all.”  His eyes took on a slight strained look at the corners but otherwise, true to his word, he did not interrupt.  “We’ve never had it, as far as we can tell, and there are only humans -- no elves, no dwarves, no qunari.  Definitely no dragons, nor darkspawn.  In our 6,000 year written history, it's only ever been humans, aside from myths from which we've since lost the knowledge to decipher truth.

 

        “We have machines that can fly us through the sky safely for routine or leisure. We have medicines that cure most diseases, and treatments for nearly all the rest.  Everyone dreams, and there are no spirits we can prove.  We have machines that fit in the palm of your hand that could provide you with access to more knowledge than is contained in the largest library you've ever seen, and can find you any individual fact therein before you could finish asking.  Someone on the other side of the globe could watch, in real time, as major historical events unfold in another country, or even save it to watch at their discretion.  We have travelled around our entire globe, and, unsatisfied, built machines which have been successfully piloted to the moon  _ and back _ .  Oh, and we only have one moon.”  I could practically feel Solas ready to burst with questions, so I quickly plowed on to the most relevant bits.  

 

        “And we have devices, some as large as the wall of this cabin, on which we can 'watch’ books and plays.  These images can be acted or illustrated.  Books we watch are called 'movies.’  Books we participate in are called 'video games.’  Not all video games are fiction, of course;  some are puzzle-based games, others are war-focused, and then others … allow the user to adopt an active role in a story.”

 

        Solas instantly made the connection.  “Forgive me, but are you saying that this is, quite literally, a game for you?”  

 

        I winced at the phrasing.  “Essentially.”  I couldn't name the expressions he phased through, but eventually he settled.  

 

        “Go on.”  His voice was quieter but did not hold the same biting sarcasm as before.  

 

        “The franchise-- or, uh, brand?  Label?”  He spun his hand impatiently in the universal symbol for  _ get on with it _ .  “The label all this falls under is 'Dragon Age.’  The first game began with the user creating a warden who became the Hero of Ferelden and stopped the Blight.”

 

        “Queen Cousland.”

 

        “Ah.  Human female, then, married Alistair.  Missing now, yes?”  The cabin stayed silent.  “Right, common knowledge, moving on.  The second game began with the user creating a character named Hawke who became the Champion of Kirkwall.  Also missing -- sorta -- and also common knowledge.  The third game,” I paused, rubbing my sweaty palms against my pants, “begins with the user creating a character who … well, uh, gets the Mark.”

 

        Solas opened his mouth but I tutted and shook my finger and he, begrudgingly, obliged.  “In my world, I am a human who has played this game -- and its predecessors -- dozens of times from start to finish.  Each.  There is also a series of novels chock full of lore, though I only glanced at those.  However, my proof is that I know the truth of you, and who you are, and where you come from, and why, and which player you are in the story, and your goals, as well as who our opposition is, how he came to power, and his connection to you.”  

 

        By the time I finished, the look on his face gave me goosebumps and set every hair on end.   _ What have I done _ ?  “I-I tell you this not to threaten or bribe or -- or blackmail you.  I tell you this as an offer of truce.”  

 

        “A truce?”  His voice fell deadly flat and I licked my dry lips, suddenly aware of the last drink I'd had that morning.  

 

        “Yes,” I breathed.  Only when I was sure I had more than seconds to live did I continue.  “I already know that if I deviate too far from the main plot, I could upset the natural progression and lose the one advantage I have, and that’s even  _ if _ it all stays true to the game.  I tell this to you in hopes you understand I have no intention of betraying you;  there’s more at stake than my own life.”   _ Hell, I don't necessarily disagree with you. _  “In return, I ask for your help.”

 

        “That depends,” he ventured as he stood and walked to the hearth, “on what you think you know.”  Solas knelt and kindled the coals with a whisper of magic.  I heard the clink of metal on metal and when he stepped to the cabinet beside I saw he was  _ making goddamn tea. _

 

        “I know that what the Dalish consider their pantheon were nothing more than powerful, ancient, immortal elves.  I know that elves fought a war amongst themselves, and it was brutal beyond measure.  I know of Mythal and her current identity --” a sharp intake of breath twitched his shoulders, “-- and I know that you led your people to freedom.  I know of Falon’Din.  I know that you created the Veil as we know it at Tarasyl'an Te'las, and the elves began aging and then dying.  I know--”

 

        “Stop,” came his quiet voice, and I looked up.  His back was still to me but his hands were firmly spread on either side of his desk, his head hung low.  The hem of his tunic trembled.  “I believe you.”

 

        I drew my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them.   _ Shit. _  “...ir abelas, hahren.”  

 

        A dark chuckle escaped him, but he visibly wrested control over his posture and strode to intercept the teapot before it could whistle.  He set out two teacups and absent-mindedly searched for a towel.  I could tell he was absorbing this information, though not his opinions on it.   _ Domestic Solas is creepy Solas _ , I thought as he poured.  He called over his shoulder, “Your backstory is established.  Please explain how you came to exist in this world.  I am, of course, assuming that this --” he gestured vaguely to me, “is not the  _ normal  _ level of immersion?”

 

        “Correct.  And I honestly don't know anything.”  I accepted the cup from him and he sat down facing me once more.  “I don't even remember a catalyst.  I have since determined that this isn’t a dream, but I don't remember falling unconscious or any events leading up to this.  I woke up in the cell beneath the Chantry, and I am...  _ in _ a Dalish elf.  That's it.  That's all I know.”

 

        Solas’ brows knit together as he digested that worrying lack of insight, and I took the opportunity to plead my case.  “I need your help, Solas.  I'm going to play this game through because I don't know the rules that govern me being here, and because I can help.  I can't give advance notice of major events because Corypheus is a paranoid shit and will totally change it up on me if he thinks I have the slightest clue what he's doing, but I can help.  I can plan.  I can navigate.  But I need to know what's happened to me, and I need to know what  _ will _ happen to me.  If anyone in this entire ga-- uh, world,” he shot me a smirk, “could help me in any way,  _ and _ could ever possibly believe an impossible story, it's you.”  

 

        He set his teacup back on its saucer with a dainty  _ tnk _ , heaved a little sigh, and leaned forward to place it on a small stool.  “Your story is absurdly outlandish, but the only way you could possess such knowledge is likely due to its truth.  I find it much more unlikely that  _ somehow _ ,” finally, a bit of wry humor in his eyes, “you are as I am.  Displaced kin?  I should be so lucky.”  

 

        I blew gently across my teacup to cool its contents and took a sip to be polite, but I couldn't suppress the shuddering reaction.   _ Oh my GODS I hate tea!   _ Despite himself, Solas actually laughed aloud at the grimace on my face before gently reaching over to take the teacup from me.  “Don't worry.  I never acquired the taste, myself.”  

 

        “So.  Ideas?”  

 

        “Truly, none.”  Solas raised and dropped one shoulder as he swirled honey into my tea.  “The ritual went awry, and I am no more likely than you to predict the mechanism which brought you here.  Worse still, we have no way of knowing if the body you inhabit will exist after you leave, however that might happen.”  He sipped it and seemed only mildly displeased, but he drizzled a tiny bit more sweet golden syrup into the porcelain.  “Which in turn begs the question:  is this permanent?  Are we going to wake one morning to a hostile, bewildered Dalish and hope the revelation does not destroy the Inquisition?”  His eyes slipped out of focus as he tried to tease apart the issue in his mind, looking for any hidden, helpful information.  

 

        “But you believe me, right?”

 

        “I do.”  He delicately sipped the brew and nodded to himself.  “Do you have any theories?”

 

        “Not yet.”  The wood creaked as I leaned back further in my chair to cross my arms atop my knees.  “And you agree to the truce.  I won't intentionally mess with your plans, or tell anyone your real name and story, and you'll try to help me find a way home before you make your big move?”

 

        Solas locked eyes with mine and nodded solemnly.  “I will do everything in my power, now and in the future, to unravel your mystery.”   _ Not what I was going for, but I see what you did there.   _

 

        “And inform me as the information comes to you?”  I raised an eyebrow in the silence that followed, but he soon gave in.  

 

        “As soon as I know it, you shall as well.”   _ That's fair enough, I suppose.  There's always Dorian… _

 

        Solas stood and, with a wave of his free hand, disengaged the muffling glyphs and eavesdropping spells around the perimeter.  “Uh,” I ventured, “this sounds odd I'm sure, but you're welcome to visit my dreams.  You may get a glimpse of my world.”  I received only a blank stare so I blurred on, “I mean, obviously please leave if you witness anything personal -- not that there should be anything  _ terribly _ personal -- I don't have intense dreams  _ very  _ often --” I was blushing now, “--it’s just that I know you can walk through dreams anyway, and I don't want you to feel like you're intruding if -- plus, it'd be easier to believe if you see--”

 

        He chuckled and gently guided me out with one hand on my shoulder, the other pushing the cooled, sweetened tea into my hands.  “It's fine;  I understand.  Please excuse me,” he finished simply, and closed the door, carefully, in my face.  

 

_         Well, that works, I guess _ .

 

        There wouldn’t be much to truly do around town until I started hoarding companions, so I meandered back to my own little cabin.   _ Did I do the right thing, or is this going to get me killed? _  Solas was a bastard to be sure --  _ I’ll be  _ damned  _ if he cuts  _ my  _ arm off _ \-- but he could be genuinely kind to people that didn’t get interfere in his agenda.  He might see me as a science experiment instead of a person, true, but he could very well find an answer for me before the world went to shit and he struck out on his own.  Added to that, it was truly a relief to have someone else know the entirety of the mess I was in, and what I could offer in spite of it.  

 

        As I lay in bed that night trying in vain to pin down some sleep before dawn, I analyzed the options before me.  Obviously, I couldn't tell  _ everyone  _ who I was;  the reactions would be too varied to predict, and therefore dangerous.  I had already told Solas and was still confident in my decision to do so, but what about others?   _ There’s no way I could keep it from Iron Bull for long.  Either I’ll have to fess up, or I can’t hire him -- but I always hired him in game, so there’s no telling what that would affect. _  Varric -- Hmmm.  I could possibly tell him in the same manner;  I knew who Bianca truly was, after all, and could hold that out as my proof.  I wouldn’t have a chance to tell Dorian until after we got sent back in time, and that’s if I decided to go with the mages --  _ hell _ ,  _ there’s too much to think about.   _

 

        For the umpteenth time I flipped over on my straw mattress, punched my pillow, and kicked my quilt into a more comfortable arrangement. I was nearly about to just give up on sleep when I was jolted awake anyways by a tapping on my door.   _ Who in the fuck… _  A glance at the moons through the window told me it must be past midnight, and it was snowing, and I groaned.   _ Andraste’s flaming ass! _

 

        I swaddled myself in my downy blankets and waddled across the floor.  The rapping came louder, faster this time, and I shuffled faster.  “I'm coming, jeez.”  

 

        The door swung inwards to reveal my living room.  

 

        “Um.”  Glancing down only confirmed I was still wearing Haven clothes and Haven blankets and was a dainty elf, but my dainty elf toes were suddenly cushioned by the plush carpet of my human home.  

 

        Everything looked just as I'd left it.  My plants were still happily crowding the sunny balcony, though the sky-blue paint was peeling.  Gauzy green curtains staved off the worst of the glare.  The lavender walls -- because  _ of fucking course they are -- _ were covered in mismatched bookshelves of varying heights, knick-knacks piled on top of the shorties and every shelf stuffed to the brim with books of all genres.  The low coffee table was surrounded by a rainbow of floor poufs and pillows;  I never did care for large furniture.  

 

        One wall was devoted to art;  several of my own paintings were interspersed among decorative masks, copies of famous works, a couple of sculptures, a poster, and in the far corner by the front door a well-tended hanging ivy whose tendrils draped gracefully around the top of the room and had been gently woven in with fairy lights for mood.  The center of the gallery wall was a simple brick hearth, well-loved and well-used.  

 

        My meager entertainment center stood across the hearth from my ivy (though several of its extensions laid across it), angled into the room.  There was a television, my Xbox 360, a PlayStation 2, a WiiU, and even an original PlayStation;  somewhere under there was a Gameboy color, too.  

 

        The TV flickered on without any intention from me, and I glanced around -- to find Solas reclining among my cushions straining to hide his amusement.  

 

        “Seriously?”  I dropped the blankets and groaned to see I was now wearing my normal home wardrobe:  leggings and a baggy t-shirt baring one shoulder of a lacy camisole.   _ At least my purple pedicure came through _ , I thought as I wiggled them in admiration.  

 

        “It would seem so.”  He tossed the tv remote to the floor beside him and stood, making a show of analyzing everything he could.  “It does not seem wholly different, here.”  

 

        I snorted.  “I’m considered fairly poor in my era.  This is really next to nothing.”  

 

        While he brazenly rifled through my dream-stuff, I just made myself comfortable and waited him out.  He went through my kitchen -- playing with the digital scale for a weird amount of time -- then the books, then the bathroom.  “How in the world --”  he was interrupted by the sudden sound of a swirling toilet.  “Oh.”  

 

        Eventually he got tired of touching things and came to join me on the pouf pile.  “I spent the rest of the evening consulting with a friend about our… predicament.”  

 

        “Was it a spirit of Wisdom?”  

 

        “I --  Yes.”  Solas cleared his throat.  “I believe we should only discuss matters related to our truce here, in the Fade.  I can secure our conversations better that way.”

 

        “That's fine with me.”  I didn’t see any harm in that.  

 

        “I have a request before I fully commit to our truce.”  

 

        “Of  _ course _ the Dread Wolf wishes to discuss the fine print,” I moaned, and he flashed a devilish smile I could only return;  he  _ was  _ being a pretty good sport about it all.  I carded my fingers through my hair to find it loose, black, long and curly, much different than my brown Dalish bun.   _ Still got the ears _ ,  _ though _ , I frowned.  A hairband appeared on my wrist and I threw my tresses into a messy bun.  “It would appear that the longer we’re here, the more the human me is breaking through.”  

 

        “So it would seem,”  he acknowledged, resting his chin on his fist and failing to suppress a chuckle.  “For instance, your vallaslin has been replaced with a smattering of freckles.”  I wrinkled my nose in distaste and felt pressure against the bridge.  “And glasses, apparently.”

 

        “Yeah.”  I adjusted them out of habit.  “What’s this request?”  

 

        “Every day, I'd like the freedom to ask you a question.  In return, I ask that you answer each question to the best of your ability.”  His long fingers pried a paperback from the shelf and splayed its pages;  the words were gibberish, as per the norm in most dreams back home.  

 

        My eyes narrowed.  “That seems suspiciously mundane.”  

 

        “It is a mundane request.  You may say no.  There is no deception behind it, only curiosity.”  His expression seemed open enough;  I was tempted to believe him.  

 

        “Only if you'll tell me a story in return.”  It was too tempting;  my favorite part of talking to him in-game were his Fade stories.  Solas had a way with words, I couldn't deny it.  It always sucked when I'd used up all those chat lines;  I wanted there to be more.  “Snippets of bygone dreams you've discovered in your journeys.”  

 

        His eyebrows shot up in surprise.  “ _ That _ is your counter offer?”

 

        “What's wrong with it?”   

 

        “I agree,” came Solas’ eager reply.  “I do not understand why that holds value to you, but I won't question it.  To seal the deal, I'll begin with a simple tale.  

 

        “Centuries ago, in the murky history between pages no one notices, I discovered an old daydream.  It was faded around the edges and almost colorless from age.  A young farmhand charged with keeping the flock fell asleep beneath the noon sun, and in that dream he envisioned a future with a neighboring farm girl;  he pictured a son between them, smiling and free, with his green eyes and her fiery hair.  When he awoke, his flock had been harassed into fleeing by a stray, hungry dog.  He searched for them through the night but only returned home with half the sheep, all but one lamb lost to the creatures of the forest.  

 

        “His father, angry, sought to punish the boy, and sent him to live with his aunt three days’ wagon ride to the East.  He desperately tried to write a goodbye letter to the girl he loved, but he'd never learned to put words to paper and so gave up.  He rode the path his father laid for him, and he never returned.”  Solas gently placed my dream-book back upon the shelf and perused its other contents.  “Is that sufficient?”  

 

        I thought for a moment and then nodded for him to go ahead.  “That works.  What's your question for today?”

 

        “In my cabin, you said you knew 'which player’ I am in the story.”  In the way only dreams can move he was in front of me in only a moment, his nose inches from mine, wolf jaw necklace swinging between us.  His teeth bared in a predatory grin, Solas asked,  “Which player would that be?”

 

        I fought the instinct to lean away and failed, drawing my knees to my chest as a barrier even as I shivered.   _ Personal bubble alert!! _  “Uh…”  I thought about his role in the story:  a font of knowledge, content to follow until the very end where he comes into his own power and calls upon the network he'd secretly been sowing.  “In this form and at this stage, Solas, you're only a pawn.”  

 

        “A what _? _ ”  The shocked look on his face as he sat back on his heels did me in.   _ Didn't expect that, didja egghead?! _

 

        I belted out a laugh and the Fade wobbled, twisted around me like a water slide, and eventually dumped me into the pink light of dawn peeking in my bedroom window.  

 

        I woke up giggling.


	3. Elan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out her names (hahahahaha whoops); her social skills leave much to be desired; and then ROAD TRIP

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added tags: "#Flissa (Dragon Age)"; "#ch3 implied abuse." Not directly referenced unless you squint, but just in case. 
> 
> Ivory_Inkwell <3 <3 <3 MORE ELAN

        Cassandra sent a messenger to my cabin not long after I'd prepared for the day.  It seemed as though they had debated through most of the night over organizational details and finally agreed upon an arrangement.  They wanted me present at the Chantry when they unveiled their declaration.   _ Greeeeat. _

 

        Clad in leather breeches, linen-wrapped hands and feet, a simple belted tunic, and a woolen shawl rather than the atrocious gold-and-khaki Haven outfit from the game, I navigated through the bustling morning streets, wincing at my ribs by the time I reached the fifth staircase.  Gratefully I discovered my hair was as long here as it was at home, so I took down my bun and spread it across my shoulders to shield the tips of my ears from the bitterest winds.  I looked entirely unlike the Dalish elf they’d become accustomed to with my auburn hair loose and wild, padded armor left at home, and it showed on their faces as I approached the Chantry doors.  Josephine looked pleased, at least, so I figured I fit in well enough regardless -- or at least I stood out within the boundaries of her approval, which was just as good.  

 

        I squeezed through the back of the crowd and climbed the steps two at a time in little graceful hops and came to stand next to Cullen’s bulky furred mantle.   _ Don’t nuzzle.  Don’t fucking do it.  It looks soft enough to bury your face in, but Jesus don’t do that to yourself. _  I settled for tightening my shawl about me, fingering the scratchy fabric with a sigh.   _ But maybe he wouldn’t hate it if I commissioned something similar later… _

 

        The flap of raven wings overhead hushed the crowd and we looked up to watch at least a dozen or more birds take flight in multiple directions;  by the time our attention returned to the Chantry, Cassandra and Leliana had both joined us.  A large Inquisition banner fluttered down and settled above the entrance, and Cass faced the crowd.  

 

        “The Breach threatens us all,” she called out, her chin lifted a smidge to amplify her voice, and save for a handful of whispering everyone settled under her commanding gaze.  “There are some who would have us leave it alone and hope it does not spread or change.  Are you content to ignore demons roaming unchecked across Thedas?” 

 

        The townspeople responded with a resounding and immediate “No!”   _ Oh shit, I hope we’re not  _ all _ doing speeches.   _

 

        “Are you complacent enough to wait weeks or even months for a new Divine to be elected so the Chantry might determine the cowards behind the murder of Divine Justinia?”  

 

        Exuberantly, “No!”  

 

        “As Justinia’s Hands, we were charged with truth, justice, and defending the faithful.  Under these terms do we hereby announce the foundation of a new Inquisition!”  Cheers erupted.   _ Hope they still feel that way after we shut the Breach. _  “By divine providence, the Maker has sent to us the key to save ourselves --”  But the rest of her statement was drowned out by cacophonous excitement and chants of ‘Herald!  Herald!’  She turned to me and raised an eyebrow, and my face flushed.   _ Ohhhhh no.  Nuh-uh.  No way.  No public speaking.  I draw the line there.   _

 

        Cullen leaned to me.  “They need you,” he encouraged, and I steeled myself.   _ Okay  _ fine,  _ I guess. _

 

        “People of Haven!”  came my shaky voice as I stepped forward and cleared my throat to begin again.  “I am Melyria Lavellan.  I make no claims to greatness, nor power, nor religion.”  Their voices quieted again as I spoke.  I saw more than one expression fall when I didn’t outright declare my divinity, but so be it.  “I am simply an elf who survived.  This mark,”  I raised my left hand to the contaminated sky and it crackled on cue, wowing those at least in the first few rows, “allows me to close rifts and, hopefully, the Breach itself.  We must all work together to make that possible, and in so doing, we will save all of Thedas.”  My eyes searched for and found Chancellor Roderick in the crowd, glaring at me.  Refusing to look away, I instead decided to add a little dig.  “Blessed are those who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter;  blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just.”  

 

        The gathered villagers went wild over the canticle, and I watched the sour Chancellor slink away into the throng.  Advisors peeled away in the aftermath leaving just Cassandra and I to walk into the Chantry together.  

 

        She chuckled as she shut the heavy doors behind us.  “It was risky to deny the Herald narrative, but the Chant might have saved you.”  She regarded me with narrow eyes.  “Did you intend to send such a mixed message?”  

 

        “I intended to preserve the ambiguity,”  I confessed.  “I do not believe I was chosen, but they do.  I wanted them to know this isn’t a power grab, but I also wanted to cast doubt -- both ways.”  

 

        She hummed in vague approval and we set forward on the long carpet to the war room.  “Does the Mark trouble you?”  

 

        My left hand flexed instinctively and I shook my head.  “Nah.  It’s weird and I don’t like it being there, but it doesn’t cause any problems.”  

 

        “What’s important is that your mark is now stable, as is the Breach.  You’ve given us time, and Solas believes that a second attempt might succeed – provided the mark has more power.  The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place.  That is not easy to come by.”  

 

        “Clearly you have something in mind.”  

 

        “We do.”  Cass opened the door in front of us and gestured for me to go first.  Just like the game I was greeted by the other three leaders.  “May I present Commander Cullen, head of the Inquisition’s forces.”

 

        “Such as they are.  We lost many soldiers in the valley, and I fear many more before this is through.”  Cullen shifted on his feet, his wrist lazily propped on the hilt of his sword, and I decided he was ruggedly handsome without a shitty graphics card between us.   _ That jaw, though! _

 

        “This is lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat.”  My gold-clad fave stepped forward with a graceful little bow.  

 

        “Andaran atish'an.”

 

        “You speak Elven?”  I inclined my head to her in surprise and acknowledgement.  

 

        “You’ve just heard the entirety of it, I’m afraid.”  Her cheeks flushed slightly and she resumed taking notes, a bit flustered.   _ It should be illegal to be so pretty.  Why is everyone so pretty?! _

 

        “And of course you know Sister Leliana.”  Cassandra tossed her head in the direction of her purple-garbed friend hovering in the shadowed corner.  

 

        “My position here involves a degree of --”

 

        “She is our spymaster.”

 

        Leliana’s mouth thinned in irritation.  “Yes.  Tactfully put, Cassandra.”

 

        “I’m very pleased to meet everyone;  thank you again for including me today.  I look forward to working with you all.”  I moved to the war table with a hand on the shawl clasp at my throat;  the map was  _ massive _ in person.   _ Hope I can keep all this stuff straight without the little descriptions _ .  

 

        “I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the Breach for good,”  Cassandra began.  “Leliana believes we should approach the rebel mages for their assistance, but --”  

 

        “I still disagree. The Templars could serve just as well.”  Cullen’s voice held the cadence of exhausted repetition;  I could tell this was one of the points they hadn’t yet hammered out despite what was likely an intense discussion last night.  

 

        Josephine diplomatically headed off the bickering with common sense.  “Unfortunately, neither group will even speak to us yet.  The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition – and you, specifically.”  Her quill waved in my direction, and I nodded.  “As you heard outside, some are calling you – a Dalish elf – the 'Herald of Andraste.’  That frightens the Chantry.  The remaining Clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we heretics for harboring you.  It limits our options. Approaching the mages or templars for help is currently out of the question.”

 

        Cassandra continued the familiar dialogue.  “People saw what you did at the temple, how you stopped the Breach from growing. They have also heard about the woman seen in the rift when we first found you. They believe that was Andraste.”

 

        A rustle from the corner drew my eyes to Leliana’s.  “Even if we tried to stop that view from spreading --”

 

        “Which we have  _ not, _ ” Cass added.  

 

        “The point is, everyone is talking about you.”  Josephine made little notes in her margins as the thoughts occurred to her without even breaking speech.   _ Impressive. _

 

        “It’s quite the title.  How does that feel?”  Cullen locked eyes with me and waited.   _ I mean, I don’t… really… _

 

        “Um.”  I had still been thinking of the title in the abstract, as a word in the game, but I took a moment to truly digest that these people were calling  _ me _ the Herald of Andraste.  “It … is uncomfortable.”  Cullen chuckled.  

 

        “That is understandable,”  Leliana offered,  “but please just remember:  people are desperate for a sign of hope.  For some, you’re that sign.”  

 

        “And to others, a symbol of everything that has gone wrong.”  Josie ticked an item off her board and glanced up.

 

        “We have a request.”  Leliana stepped up to the table, her posture stiff and awkward;  this was likely  _ not _ a request.  “There is something you can do for us.  A Chantry Cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you.  She is not far, and knows those involved far better than I.  Her assistance could be invaluable.”   _ Oh, right.  Her. _

 

        “Of course.”  

 

        We spent over two solid hours discussing troop movements, diplomatic ties, and trade routes over the map;  I had received a message from clan Lavellan and immediately handed it to Leliana to take care of.  Josephine gladly began composing a letter to her Antivan friend in order to investigate  _ Hard in Hightown 3:  The Re-Punchening _ , and Cullen volunteered his soldiers to bring in funds for the cause.   By the time I left the Chantry with marching orders in hand for myself and my companions my stomach was urging me to follow the delicious smells emanating from the tavern.  

 

        I pushed the door open and was immediately greeted by Maryden’s music underscoring the savory aromas of meat and bread and vegetables, and my stomach again growled in demand.  The tables were sparsely occupied and Flissa noticed my entrance;  she waved me over to the bar with a wide smile.  “What can I get for you, Herald?  On the house.”  

 

        “Really, it’s okay --”

 

        “Not in my tavern, it isn’t.”  She propped her fists on her hips and her determined glare elicited a nervous giggle from me.  “Right.  You must be starved, haven’t seen you all day.  Is there anything you can’t eat?”  

 

        “Uh… I mean, I have a weak stomach, so maybe just something simple for now?”  I had no way of knowing what their fare was truly like yet.  The last thing I needed was to be served a plate of something random, like … I dunno, druffalo liver baked in cinnamon, or whatnot.  

 

        My fears were gleefully dashed when Flissa returned with a mug of ale and a heaping plate of steak over potatoes and carrots slathered in brown gravy, and a basket of rolls besides.  “You’re too thin under all that.  Eat your fill, and feel free to take home anything you haven’t finished.”  

 

        “ _ Thank _ you, Flissa,” I gaped at the platter and gratefully accepted it.  Hands full, I meandered my way through the tables to an empty spot in the corner and dug in.   _ Oh my gods, this is delicious.  I could marry her. _

 

        “Eat like that and they’ll say the Inquisition starves you,” a voice rumbled in my direction, and I looked up to see --  _ Chest hair! _

 

        “Hi, Varric.”  A pinch of bread worked as a makeshift napkin to swipe a bit of gravy from my lip, and I finished my mouthful with a gulp.  “Uh, hungry?  There’s plenty here.”  

 

        “Thanks, but I already ate.”  The dwarf settled into the chair opposite me and folded his hands on the table between us.  “Don’t mind me, though;  I’m just here to pick your brain.”  

 

        I speared a sliced carrot with the knife and popped it on my tongue.   _ Oooooh, juicy.  Never thought I’d be this happy about eating my veggies. _  “What’s on your mind?”  

 

        “A few things.”  He leaned back and watched me chew.  “Red lyrium.  Hole in the sky.  The Temple.  There’s potato on your shirt,” he smirked, and I transferred the errant piece to my mouth with an eye roll.  “You, most of all.”  

 

        “Oh?”  Despite the anxious fluttering around my navel, I smiled as I sawed at a hunk of steak.   _ Never did figure out my back story. _  “Writing another book already?”  

 

        “Not at the moment, actually.  Bit of writer’s block.  The Breach’ll do that to ya.”  Varric scratched his jaw, considering for a moment, before he continued.  “So, now that Cassandra’s out of earshot, are you holding up alright?  I mean, you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful.  Most people would have spread that out over more than one day.”  

 

_         Ah, okay, so we’re doing this one here.  I can do this.   _ “I’m just glad I’m still standing after all that.”  

 

        He snorted.  “I still can’t believe you survived Cassandra.  You’re lucky you were out cold for most of her frothing rage.”

 

        “I’m sure it was a sight,” I said before biting down on a mouthful of meat and gravy.  “When she gets going, she’s quite a force.”  

 

        “You don’t know the half of it,” he grunted.  “For days now, we’ve been staring at the Breach, watching demons and Maker-knows-what fall out of it.  ‘Bad for morale’ would be an understatement.  I still can’t believe anyone was in there and lived.”

 

        “I’m still not sure I believe that any of this is really happening.”  The line from the script fit too perfectly, so I used it.   _ Sue me. _  I couldn’t lie to Varric of all people if from nothing more than respect, and it was true.  

 

        “If this is all just the Maker winding us up, I hope there is a damn good punch line coming.”  He dragged a wide hand down his face and sighed.  “You might want to consider running at the first opportunity.  I’ve written enough tragedies to recognize where this is going.  Heroes are everywhere.  I’ve seen that.  But a hole in the sky?  That’s beyond heroes.  We’re going to need a miracle.”

 

        I perked up and adopted an innocent falsetto, “Oh but Varric, didn’t you hear?  I’m your new savior.  Isn’t that  _ miraculous  _ enough for you?”  

 

        He guffawed and threw an arm over the back of his chair _.   _ I couldn’t help but squee on the inside -- he’d been a favorite of mine since his intro in DA2.  “Oh, it’s  _ miraculous _ all right.  Thousands of people are lining up to defend Andraste’s elven messenger with their lives, and it’s only been days;  that’s the sort of thing that people would never believe if it was in a book.”  

 

        “The truth is often stranger than fiction,”  I murmured, dabbling half a roll in a puddle of gravy.  

 

        “Tell me about it,”  he huffed, and I froze mid-chew as a thought occurred to me.   _ I could, though.   _ Varric noticed.  “...What?”  

 

        “I could tell you about it.”  As an afterthought I swallowed the rest of the roll I was holding.  “Maybe not today, though.  I need to consider some things.”  

 

        “This sounds pretty juicy.”  He leaned towards me and lowered his voice.  “Are you some sort of Dalish spy?”  

 

        I snickered.  “Quite the opposite.”  Even as I inhaled the last couple bites of my dinner I pocketed the rest of the rolls;  they were exquisite.  I’d have to get Flissa’s recipe.  

 

        “C’mon, you’ve got to give me something.  You can’t just leave me hanging like this,” he pleaded as I stood to clear away my dishes.  

 

        I considered it for a moment, then glanced at the crossbow in the chair beside him.  My face fell but I forced myself to look him in the eye.  “The one story you’ll never tell.  She’s going to break your heart again, Varric.”  My voice was a whisper but he paled regardless.  

 

        The rogue attempted a smile but it faltered and died after only a moment.  “You’re kidding me, right?”  

 

        “I wish.”  I couldn’t face him anymore;  it kinda hurt.  My hands trembled as I stacked my dirty dishes out of habit.  “You’ll hear from her soon.  But it’s important that you know, now, where you can reflect on it later when you need it:  It’s not your fault, Varric.  Please remember that.”  

 

        “Sure, kid.”  I couldn’t tell if he was pissed at me or not as I took my plates back to the bar, and when I turned around he was already gone.   _ Shit.  I fucked that one up.  Too cryptic. _  Unfortunately, like reality, there was no way to reload a previous save and try again.  

 

        My dreams that night were turbulent and dark, and I couldn’t find Solas anywhere.  He’d either left me to my own devices or was content to watch me fumble through my fear in the disjointed process of nightmares.  When I finally forced my way through the Fade, I found him absorbed at the desk in his own cabin.   _ Of course he even does research while asleep.   _ Pissed, I slammed the door behind me and he jumped up.  

 

        His surprise when he saw me wasn’t an act.  “How are you here?”  

 

        “What do you mean, ‘how?’  You came to my dreams the other night, remember?”  I snorted derisively and strode to his bed, plopping down criss-cross applesauce with my palms on my knees.  “Shouldn’t it work both ways?”  

 

        “No.  No, it shouldn’t.”  He warily approached and sat beside me on the twin bed, springs creaking even in dreamland.  “You are not a mage.”  

 

        It was several seconds before that sunk in.  “Ooooh, right.  I shouldn’t be able to dream here, I’m guessing?”  

 

        “Not by our laws of nature, no.  Sleep should be barren for you, and yet you not only dream, you were able to travel to mine own dreams with little effort.”  

 

        “That’s so unusual to me.  Everyone dreams back home;  if they don’t dream, it’s usually because their brain waves are messed up, or they wake up at the wrong time in the sleep cycle.”  

 

        He turned to me eagerly.  “Brain waves?”   _ Oh, right.  The little scientist egg. _

 

        “Mhm.  Is that your daily question?”  I smiled wide when he froze, cleared his throat, and leaned back all prim and proper-like.  

 

        “No.”  He stood and, with a weird, twisty gesture I couldn't follow, the cabin dissolved into a beautiful forest clearing.  Beams of sunlight spotted the ground through emerald foliage against a soundtrack of chirping birds in the canopy and trickling water nearby.  The loam beneath my toes was soft and warm with recent summer rain, and there were no paths to be seen through the thick woods encircling us;  this was truly a hidden little spot of nature, and I instantly loved it, which didn’t escape Solas’ notice.  He half turned and regarded me quizzically.  “Are you pleased?”  

 

        “Yes,”  I muttered, looking away as my cheeks filled with heat.   _ I’m a tree-hugging, dirt-worshipping pagan back home.  I’d murder a rosebush for a spot like this to myself.  Perks of befriending an Evanuri, I suppose. _  “It’s gorgeous.”  

 

        “Indeed.”  A walking stick shimmered into existence before him even as he reached for it, like he just knew it would be there.   _ Showoff.   _ “I haven’t entirely decided what my question for the day will be just yet.” 

 

        “If I were an ass, I’d say you asked your first question when you asked how I got here.”  I smiled to make sure he understood I meant no harm, and he sighed.  

 

        “Good thing you are not an ass.”  Solas crossed the clearing to the middle;  his feet left no footprints.   _ Huh.  Is that a Fade thing or an elf thing? _  I wondered as he sat on the ground.  He exhaled, tension visibly leaving his neck and shoulders, and placed his staff alongside his body as he stretched out to fold his hands beneath his head.  Curious, I crawled over and copied him.  

 

        The sun was bright, but thankfully shaded by the trees high above;  the breeze there in the middle of the clearing was cool and welcoming, with shafts of sun to occasionally warm us.  It was truly a blessing, and I whispered my thanks to my gods from home.   

 

        “Truly, had I known you would be so quick to agree I would not have limited myself to one question a day.”  He spoke to me without looking away from the sky, and I replied in kind.  

 

        “Buyer’s remorse, huh?”  At his silence, I heaved a faked, put-upon sigh, dramatically threw my arms to the ground beside me, and granted him the permission he was looking for.  “Well, if it’s  _ that _ much of a burden, I  _ suppose _ you can ask more than one question a day.  But there are limits.”  

 

        “Oh?”  

 

        “Yup.  You only get one question a day that you can demand an answer to, as per the contract;  the rest I get to answer at my discretion.”  I turned to look at him and found his eyes closed.  “And I get to cancel any answer-demand if it’s too personal or too important.”  

 

        His expression turned mischievous.  “Mmmm, are we bartering?  I decline your rejection powers.  Instead, you may ask that I pick a different question, and I will consider it.”

 

        “You drive a hard bargain, hahren.  I accept your terms.”   

 

        “What do you do for a living in your world?”

 

        “I'm a writer.”  

 

        “Like Varric?”

 

        “Not yet.  I haven’t had any books published, but I do write and share work regularly, and I get some income from it.”  I rolled away from him and sat up, dragging my fingers through my hair to untie the braid.  “By trade, I bartend.”

 

        Three heartbeats of silence, then, “Do you have family?”  

 

        My back stiffened on reflex, hand buried in a tangle of hair, and I stared.  “Ask another question, please.”  

 

        Solas turned to meet my gaze solemnly but said nothing.  Eventually I continued,  “It's too soon.  Please.”

 

        This was apparently acceptable, and he nodded in somber agreement.  “I understand.  A different track, then.  What was your education like?”  

 

        I couldn't begin to guess how much time we passed in that fashion;  most of his questions tended to gravitate towards the structures and routines and institutions of my society, as he was fascinated by the whole of it.  Every mundane detail was valuable to him.  He eventually began sliding tales in among his queries after we remembered I was owed a memory for every answer, and soon we digressed and the conversation wandered until we were lightheartedly debating philosophy, culture, and anything else that occurred to us.  

 

        “In all this, it never crossed my mind to ask -- is Melyria your human name or Dalish name?”  

 

        “Dalish.”  I rolled a shoulder.  “It just came to me at that moment, like I'd always known it.  I took that to mean the person whose body I'm wearing had a life before me.”   _ Eh, can't think about that too much.  Weird implications, complicated feelings. _  “Nah, humans called me Shae.”  

 

        “It's truly been a pleasure to meet you, Shae.  I, too, regret that it was at Melyria’s expense, but it's refreshing to gain a friend in whom one may confide, is it not?  The both of us are, after all, not who we appear to be.”  Almost as an afterthought he added, “Have you experienced other thoughts or anything else which led you to believe Melyria is not a construct?”

 

        I frowned, needing to scrutinize the last week carefully to narrow it down.  “ _ Actually _ I--”  

 

        “Herald!” came Cassandra’s commanding voice through my front door, and my dramatic groan filtered back to her.  She scoffed and, by the sound of boots crushing frosted gravel, stormed off.  Pink light threatened to desecrate my shadowy cocoon but I wrapped my quilt-urrito tighter and buried my face back in my pillow.   _ Too early.  Need coffee.  Come back later.   _

 

        By the time I’d detangled the wild mane of wavy hair, the sun had fully crested over the mountain peak.  I was shoving my feet into heavy boots and tightening the laces when a meek knock at the door caught my attention.  Curious, I trudged to the door -- left laces still flapping -- and opened it to find Elan with an abundant basket of food.  

 

        “Pardon me, m’lady,” she said, her eyes lowered.  “Lady Flissa wanted you to eat before you left for the Hinterlands.  ‘It’s a long four days,’ she said.”  

 

        I tried to hide my excitement that she came back and opened the door wider to let her in.  She hesitated for a moment before taking the basket to the desk in my room, and when that was done she seemed unsure of what to do with her trembling hands so she began straightening my papers.  “Elan,” I whispered, and she startled.  “Are you okay?”  

 

        “M-m-m’lady?”  Elan turned with a near-horrified look on her face and dropped to her knees.  “I humbly apologize, I meant no offense --”

 

_         Well that’s enough of that, _ I thought irritably and sat down on the floor right in front of her.  This seemed to give her pause and I sighed.  “Elan, sweetheart, you don’t need to worship me.  I’m just an elf, like you.  I’d like to be friends.  If nothing else, I’d like to help you if I can.”  Her shivering stopped, but she was still a scared little statue on my floor, her eyes wide.  “Is there anything I can do for you?  Anything at all?  Are you getting enough to eat?  Is anyone treating you badly?”  

 

        “I -- m’lady, I --”  Elan wrapped her thin arms about her equally-thin form and seemed to deflate a little.  “I eat well, m’lady.”  I waited, and she couldn't meet my gaze.  

 

        “All I need is a name, Elan.”  Hesitantly, I reached forward and gently took her hand and she squeezed it softly in acquiescence.  

 

        “Seggrit.”  Immediately she began quivering in fear.  “M’lady, I am so sorry.  He serves the Inquisition, he serves you!  I am simply a servant of Haven.  I have no right--”

 

        “You have every right.”  It might have been more cathartic to let her continue, but I couldn't let that pass.  “You deserve to be happy and healthy.”  I realized I really didn't know much about the social structure here yet.  “Do you have an overseer?  I mean, is Seggrit your direct boss, or is it someone else?”  

 

        “Messere Tomren, the baker, owned my mother before he came to Haven.  Madam Tomren doesn’t like ownin’ slaves, she says it’s not proper like.”  She fidgeted with the hem of her tunic.  “She pays me a couple coppers a week, if I don't burn anythin’ too bad.”

 

        “Where is your mother?”

 

        “She passed on to be with the Maker about five years ago, m’lady.”  Finally,  _ finally, _ she met my eyes, though hers were full of tears.  “She had a sickness.  It weren’t contagious or nothin’, she just-- she wasted away.”

 

        “I am so sorry for your loss,” I murmured, and when she began to cry I shifted closer and draped an arm across her shoulders.  “I am truly sorry.  Losing a mother is unlike any other grief.”

 

        Elan sniffled and tried to wipe away a tear with the back of her hand.  “She was good to me.  Her name was Lisse.”  She gave a strangled little giggle before adding, “Y’know, m’lady, I think you’re the first person to ever tell me 'sorry for your loss.’  Even Madame Tomren -- bless her heart, she tries, she truly does -- she gave me a week off but never said nothin’ 'bout it.”  

 

        I knew what I wanted to do, but I'd need to speak to someone before I left and the sun was climbing higher.  “Elan, I do need to leave, but I'm going to take care of this before I go.  Don't worry,”  I squeezed her shoulder gently when I saw her ready to protest, “I'll ensure this does not come back on you.”

 

        Elan nodded and we stood, my goofy unlaced shoes nearly tripping me.  She started to giggle but slapped a hand over her mouth in horror;  I offered her a smile, and she slowly lowered her arm, smiling tentatively in return.   _ She's so sweet.  I can already tell I'm going to miss her. _

 

        After she left I finished tying my boots and shoveled a bit of food in my mouth -- honestly if Flissa expected me to eat like that  _ all _ the time, I'd be too full to move at all -- then headed out to find Leliana.  As per usual, she was at the back of her tent in front of the Chantry;  I did not expect to see her with the scout already.  

 

        “There were so many questions surrounding Farrier’s death.  Did he think we wouldn’t notice?”   _ Oh, shit.  Okay.  _  “He’s killed Farrier.  One of my best agents.  And he knows where the others are.”  She turned and leaned over her desk.  It seemed as though she was considering what to do, but I already knew what she’d choose, and after a few moments she confirmed it:  “You know what must be done.  Make it clean.  Painless, if you can.  We were friends once.”

 

        “Sister Leliana.”  I leaned against the tent pole, my hands clasped demurely in front of me.  “Do you think that’s wise?”  

 

        “You find fault with my decision?”  The assassin shot me a glare over her shoulder, but I persisted.  

 

        “Death is permanent.  You were friends, once.  Why did he betray you?  Does he have family?”  Her eyes narrowed but she said nothing, and all the while her scout tried very hard to pretend the wall of the tent was  _ incredibly _ interesting.  “We can’t solve our problems with murder.”

 

        “Butler’s betrayal put our agents in danger.  I condemn one man to save dozens.  I may not like what I do, but it must be done.  I cannot afford the luxury of ideals at a time like this.”  She was annoyed, but her vehemence had already died.  “What would you have me do, let him go?”  

 

        “Pull him in.  Question him.  You know the truth when you hear it.  If he cannot be saved, then do what you will;  but if he had no other choice, give him one.  Station him in Haven, under your watch and your agents’ watch.  Every move he makes will be monitored.  He will be uncomfortable and tense, but if he is truly our man, he will be grateful regardless.  Consider it his only warning,” I offered.  

 

        Leliana released a disgusted sigh that would have made Cass proud.  “Bring him in,” she said with a wave of her hand, and the scout bowed first to her then to me before he made his exit.  “Happy now?”  

 

        “Very.”  I considered moving closer, but figured maybe right this second wasn’t the time to do so.  “I’m preparing to leave for the Hinterlands today, but I need to talk to you about someone.”  

 

        “Elan.”  She stretched backwards a bit, hands on her hips.  “Obviously, I watch the Herald as much as I watch anyone else.”  

 

        “Obviously.”  

 

        “She entered your cabin as timid as always, and left beaming.”  Leliana swept her gaze to me, but there was no judgment there.  “Why?”  

 

        “I made a friend, I think.  I also asked her why she was so scared.  It seemed like no one had thought to do so before.”  I raised an eyebrow but my spymaster frowned slightly.  “I have two requests.”  

 

        “Ask.  The worst I can do is say no.”  

 

        “I want to… uh, I don’t know what the right term would be.  I want to buy Elan from the Tomrens.”  She looked confused, so I continued.  “I’d like her to work with me instead, if she wants to.  That could be considered an Inquisition expense, and very minor.  How much could we pay for her?”

 

        “I could ask Josephine.  The Tomrens would likely want a few gold as compensation.”  

 

        “Make it 50 gold.  I don’t want to give them the option of saying no.”  Leliana’s eyebrows shot up at the number, but she didn’t comment.  “Have her stay in my cabin until we get back.  I’d like to also offer Elan some spending money;  it’s not very homey to begin with, and she’ll need something to do while I’m gone.  She could make a nice place for herself.  Can we afford to pay her fairly?”  The Sister nodded.  “Excellent.  I would be grateful if you could arrange all of that for her.  My second request, though -- completely and totally unrelated, I might add -- is actually a demand.”  

 

        Leliana’s eyes darted to the Mark upon my left hand and lingered.  If I could only read her thoughts.   _ “If I stabbed her, would it doom us all?”  Or something along those lines, probably.   _ “Very well,” she eventually conceded.  

 

        “I want Seggrit gone within the week.”  After a pause I hastily added, “Just replaced.  Alive.  Y’know.  Just… make him leave.”

 

        “ _ Seggrit _ ?”  Now she turned to me fully, unabashedly surprised.  “What -- Nevermind.  I’m sure I know why.  This is something I can do for you, easily.”  Under her breath she added, “And it won’t involve convincing Josie to spend 50 gold on an elven servant.”  

 

        “Thank you, Sister Leliana.”  

 

        “Please, just call me Leliana.  No need for titles.  We are working together now, no?”  Her lips quirked up in a smirk as she returned to her desk to begin writing what appeared to be a letter.  

 

        “True.  In that case, please, call me Mel.  ‘Herald’ is just so… stuffy.”  And it made my skin crawl.  

 

        “Well,  _ Mel _ , I wish you safe travels.  Have you need of anything, please remember you need only send a raven.”

 

        I thanked the spymaster and excused myself from her tent.  Solas paused mid-stride several feet away, wrapped in furs and leathers for travel.  “There you are.  We are ready to depart.”

 

        As the game never addressed long journeys, I had been unsure of how exactly we’d be getting to the Hinterlands.  I was pleasantly surprised to find three wagons of supplies and a small crowd of soldiers milling about, adding last-minute bags and crates.  At least a dozen farm horses stood at the fore, impatiently stamping the ground with their massive hooves.  A pair stood with empty saddles;  Solas approached the first, and I mounted the one beside him.  Cassandra nodded to me in greeting from her horse further ahead, but I didn't see my dwarven companion.

 

        “Varric elected to ride a wagon,”  Solas offered when he saw me turning about in my saddle and searching faces.  “He seemed unusually somber.”  The mage pointed an inquisitive look my way, but I only shrugged.   _ Tell you later, _ I mouthed, and this seemed satisfactory.  

 

        Two soldiers at the front of the caravan hefted official banners and the remainder took their positions at attention.  Soon the plaza was filled with Haven residents cheering and waving as we filed out;  a pair of giggling kiddos squealed as they played tag around and between us, and a stern caregiver tried in vain to catch them between alternating admonishments and apologies.  I couldn't help but smile.  

 

        We passed the training soldiers on our way out the valley.  Once Cullen took notice of our departure he turned and offered a salute which rippled through the ranks.  As our column slowly passed, the soldiers gradually returned to their practice until even when we could no longer see them beyond the tree line we could hear their shouts and the clanging of swords.  

 

        The first day passed uneventfully.  We rode over the far mountain ridge and began our descent to the plains, and when we finally emerged past the territorial boundaries of Haven I saw a large raven take silent flight from the trees and wing back the way we came.   _ I guess we just passed Leliana’s first line of defense. _

 

        We struck camp in the early evening due to an impending snow.  It wasn’t possible with Thedosian technology to predict how far down the mountains the snow would fall, but for safety we decided to call it a night anyways.  “We will set out earlier tomorrow to make up lost ground, of course,”  Cassandra said simply as she unloaded her horse of its saddle.  Brush in hand, I left her to groom her mount and padded over to the growing circle around the campfire.  

 

        Varric was surrounded by a gaggle of soldiers, all laughing uproariously as he told them a tale between mouthfuls of stew.  “'Hawke,’ I said, 'you can't just walk in on the Viscount, even if it  _ is _ the Blooming Rose!’  'But Varric!  Did you  _ see _ what he paid for?  That can't be sanitary.’”   _ Ew,  _ I thought, despite the guffaws all around.   _ I'll leave him be for now.  Gotta fix that eventually though. _

 

        On the other side of the fire pit were a smattering of soldiers, eating silently or talking amongst themselves, and Solas.  He stoically sipped his stew, upright and dainty, and I rolled my eyes on my way to him.   _ Of course he eats alone.  He’s so old I don’t think he realizes how much arrogance he oozes. _  I perched on the log beside him and interwove my fingers before looping them around my knees.   _ Then again, maybe it’s intentional. _

 

        “Hello.”  He reached down on his other side and brought up a bowl, still steaming, then handed it to me.  “I was not sure if you were accustomed to caring for a horse;  I saved you some dinner, just in case.”

 

        “I know the basics.  A scout helped me with the rest,”  I said as I gratefully accepted my supper.  “Ma serannas, hahren.”  

 

        “Of course, ma falon,”  Solas returned with a smirk.  He pointedly resumed his meal at my bewildered expression rather than ask, but I wasn’t going to let him get away with just throwing that out there _.  No way is he calling me his friend yet. _

 

        “‘Falon?’  Already?”  I took a sip of my own dinner, grateful it had sat out for a minute when my lip wasn’t immediately burned off.  “That’s a bit suspicious.”  

 

        “Why?”   _ Am I dealing with the Scholar or the General?  Does he flip back and forth or is he always both? _  “I believe I can trust you, more so than any being whom I’ve met here.  That alone warrants a promotion.”  

 

        “Oooh, a promotion.  Back home, we just call that ‘best friends.’”  My brain was suddenly bombarded with images of pillow fights and pedicures.   _ Oh my gods.  Oh no.  Oooohhh noooooo I’ll never be able to un-think that.   _

 

        “‘Best friends.’”  I didn’t even have to look at him to know he rolled his eyes at me.  Another mouthful of stew, lazy chewing, swallowing.   _ Take your goddamn time, then. _  “Your world is very… blunt.”  

 

        “You’d be surprised, I think.”  

 

        “Likely.”  He finished his bowl and stood, stretching a bit and resettling into his furs.  When he came back from washing up I had finished my own meal and cleaned the gear.  “It is not healthy to eat so quickly,”  he grumbled.  

 

        “True.”  We walked together to the tents;  apparently they were first come, first serve, as most had already been taken and even doubled-up.  I insisted he take the first tent we came across, but the elf was more stubborn than me and I eventually gave in.  “Good night, then.  Betcha I can find you in the Fade tonight.”

 

        He glanced back at me with a wolfish grin.  “Oh?  Are you willing to lose money for that wager?”  

 

        Come morning, I owed him fifty silvers.  


	4. Ollyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinterlands shenanigans!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adding tags "#ch4 blood," "#ch4 gore," and "#ch4 NPC death," just to be safe. Making sure #Harding is tagged also. If other tags are needed, please let me know. <3

The closer we got to the Hinterlands, the slower our progress.  We came across the first evidence of the templar-mage battles early in our second day;  by that afternoon, we’d already broken up or ended three skirmishes.  At my insistence we extended safety to any who would surrender, but by the time we arrived at the camp above the Crossroads we only had two such guests:  one each a mage and a templar, their weapons confiscated.  

 

Lace Harding was there to greet us with three scouts behind her, and I could barely contain myself as we approached.   _ If she’d been romanceable, I never would have played any other way. _  Varric shot me an unreadable look from the seat of his mount as we got close and I found it more difficult to sit still on my own.  My face flushed with embarrassment as I dismounted.  

 

Despite the script playing out as normal, I was still surprised when Harding chose to address me rather than Cassandra.  “The Herald of Andraste.  I’ve heard the stories;  everyone has.  We know what you did at the Breach.  Inquisition Scout Harding, at your service.  I -- all of us here -- will do whatever we can to help.”  

 

For the first time in days I heard Varric’s voice, and I kinda wanted to cry.  “Harding, huh?  Ever been to Kirkwall’s Hightown?”  

 

“I can’t say I have.  Why?”  

 

“You’d be Harding in … oh, nevermind.”  He sighed, and Cassandra scoffed.  

 

“Thank you, Scout Harding.  Aneth ara.”  I bowed my head with the greeting, and she returned it with a curt nod.   _ She has so many freckles!  I love it!  Kinda miss mine... _

 

“We came to secure horses from Redcliffe’s old horsemaster.  I grew up here, and people always said that Dennet’s herds were the strongest and fastest this side of the Frostbacks.”  Her brows twisted in concern as she cast a forlorn look to the northwest, the direction of Dennet farm.  “But with the mage-templar fighting getting worse, we couldn’t get to Dennet.  Maker only knows if he’s even still alive.”  She paused and shook her head slightly.  I fought a sudden urge to comfort her with the knowledge that he would be fine.  “Mother Giselle’s at the Crossroads helping refugees and the wounded.  Our latest reports say that the war’s spread there, too.  Corporal Vale and our men are doing what they can to protect the people, but they won’t be able to hold out very long.”  

 

“Then we’d best get going.”  I smiled grimly and she offered me a salute.  

 

“Ma’am.”  The scouts filed off after her and the soldiers behind me began to unload.  Tents went up and a firepit was established.  A larger canopy was erected nearby with canvas sides, and I watched a pair of soldiers with a box of tools hauling in crates of wood.   _ Do they just  _ build _ the fucking requisitions desk?! _

 

“It is easier to transport furniture in pieces, especially down the mountains.”  Cassandra said by my side as she straightened her sword belt.  “Do not worry;  I was curious, too.”  She eyed the lack of weapons at my hips and snorted.  “We will depart when you are ready.”  

 

_ Oh, right.  We gotta fight through some folks to get to the Crossroads.  Lovely.  Favorite thing.  So excite, very murder.  Wow.   _ “Uh, sure.  Just … give me a moment.”  

 

I trotted over to my tent -- officially and vehemently ‘claimed’ since the second night wherein I was forced to share with a soldier who snored horribly -- slipped inside, and began rummaging around for my weapons.  With a frown, I realized they weren’t in my chest;  I’d dug to the very bottom and scraped only wood.   _ Oh, gods, don’t tell me I lost them!  I had them on the way here!   _ Against my better wisdom I began to panic slightly, tossing things around and fretting.   _ Not under the bedroll, not in the sheets, not in my clothes -- ! _

 

“Herald?”  came a worried voice through the tent flap, and I turned.  It was the new mage.  He entered when I waved him in and stood just inside the opening, his hands fidgeting but clasped before him.  He was a tall guy, broad in the shoulders and neck and sturdy through the middle;  back home he could have easily been a linebacker.  It was hard to look him in the face without having to crane my neck.  “My lady Herald, I wanted to thank you for my life.  I didn't get the chance on the road.”  His voice was pleasantly deep.   _ You sweet summer child, I'd climb you like a tree.   _

 

I donkey-kicked my nightclothes back into the crate behind me and hoped he didn't notice.  They weren't racy by any means, but still, old-timey morals and all that.  “Really, it was no trouble.  You were the first mage  _ or _ templar who didn't attack us on sight.  What's your name?” 

 

“Ollyn,” he replied with a gracious bow.  “I hope I can be of service, my lady.”

 

“Please, Ollyn, call me Mel.”  Hastily I scrambled to rearrange my effects, mind still on my missing daggers.   _ They were crap, but they were  _ my  _ crap. _  In my frustration I  _ may _ have slammed a crate lid a bit too forcefully, causing Ollie to startle.  

 

“Yes, my la-- Uh, Mel.”  His eyebrows knit as he glanced around my mess.  “...Are you looking for something?”

 

With a resigned huff I nocked my fists on my hips and turned to him.  “Actually, yes.  I've misplaced my blades.  I'm not really looking forward to telling Cassandra.”  I ducked my head sheepishly and sighed.  “Leave it to me to lose my own weapons.”    

 

The tension evaporated from his muscles and it seemed he was starting to ease into comfort around me.  “She's rather intimidating, isn’t she?”

 

“Maker, yes.  Great warrior, scary conversationalist.”  

 

We chuckled a bit over that --  _ now what?  He’s between me and the door   _ \-- before he offered, “I saw a scout outside with both bow and daggers.  I could ask her if you could borrow hers until you find your own?”

 

“Gods, Ollie, would you?  That'd be fantastic.”  I considered giving him a hug but decided against it;  the impromptu nickname was probably plenty.  “I'd greatly appreciate it.”  

 

“Of course.  I'll return shortly.”  He ducked out.  I set about organizing more calmly with a solution at hand, and true to his word he was gone barely a minute before he returned with Harding in tow.  

 

“I heard you’re empty-handed,”  the scout said by way of greeting as she stepped through the flap, Ollyn close behind.  Her hands were already unfastening her weapon belt.  “We can't have that.  It's a nightmare out there.”

 

“Thank you, Scout Harding.  And thank you again, Ollyn.  You both saved me a great deal of embarrassment.  I owe ya,” I said as I gratefully accepted her proffered gear.  

 

“Think nothing of it” Ollie said at the same time as Harding's, “pffft.  No you don't.”  

 

“This one,” she indicated the blade in the left sheath, “isn't quite balanced, but it doesn't take long to compensate.  The hilt is off a little, is all.  I haven't had a chance to get it repaired.”  I buckled the leather about my hips with a nod.  “They’ll both need a bit of sharpening soon.”  

 

“I'll take good care of them,”  I promised, and she afforded me a rare smile that sent my heart racing.  

 

“Just come back in one piece, okay?”  She winked at me on her way out and I failed to fight a blush.   _ I gotta buy that lady a beer some day. _

 

“My la--  Mel, might I ask what's to become of me?”  Ollie looked concerned, but I really didn't know what to tell him.  

 

“I think that might be up to the Inquisition,”  I ventured, “but if I get any say, I'll make sure to give you a choice.”

 

That seemed to surprise him.  “A choice?”  

 

“Well, I mean, you’re not our prisoner --”  He wryly indicated the empty staff holster across his back and I flapped a hand at it.  “Well, yeah, not forever though.  I don't see why we wouldn't let you go.”

 

“I-if it's all the same to you, Mel, I'd like to stay on with the Inquisition.”  He absent-mindedly adjusted his robes, dusty with travel and worn with age as they were;  the kid could do with a decent tailor.  “I don't have anywhere else to go, really.  My home is long gone, as are my parents, and I was an only child.  I followed a friend into the rebellion, but he's gone, now, too.”  

 

“I'm so sorry for your losses, Ollyn.”  Belt securely buckled about my hips, I placed a hand on his shoulder.  “If it helps, I  _ do _ have clearance -- from all four leaders, no less -- to recruit agents and make connections.  I would be honored to work beside you.”  

 

The smile that lit his broad face was worth it.  “Thank you, ma’am.  You won’t regret it.”  

 

“I know.  You’re a good kid.”  Even at a distance, I could hear Varric’s hearty laughter and Cassandra’s roar of irritation;  she’d hunt me down if I left her with him much longer.  “I'd better go before my companions kill each other.  It was nice talking to you, Ollyn.  Come to me anytime you need anything, okay?  In the meantime, stay here in camp.  We need to clear the road before you can wander off.”  

 

The battlefield was gruesome, and clearing out the last of the stragglers was worse yet.  I didn't have time to change my clothes before Mother Giselle approached me, and I spent the whole meeting covered in other people’s blood.  After she'd agreed to come to Haven, I rounded up my companions and we began tending to the needs of the refugees.  

 

Too many butchered rams, near-immortal bears (lookin’ at you, Cass), and dead bandits later, we had established our second camp.  The sun was setting, the Crossroads was mostly taken care of, and our party was exhausted.  Even Solas’ staff dragged slightly through the dirt as he went directly to bed rather than wait for food to cook.  

 

A scout set about dinner and he somehow roped Cassandra into cutting vegetables;  she thoroughly  _ murdered _ those onions, but they might have wrangled a tear or two from her in the process and only her intermittent glares kept me from laughing aloud.  When I couldn't hide my snickers anymore I elected to walk outside the camp to the pond nearby rather than face her wrath.

 

It was turning over to a cool evening despite the warm grass this far below Haven.  The far edge of a large, flat slab of rock jutting over the water’s edge made the perfect perch and I dangled my bare feet in the starry pool, wiggling my toes to keep the fish away.  The sky itself was too beautiful to ignore;  every inch the sun slid below the horizon unveiled more constellations than I'd ever seen in a sky at a one time thanks to city lights, and soon I was too dizzy to recline and had to lie on my back.  Stargazing had always given me vertigo and Thedas had a lot to give.  As much as I tried, none of the constellations lined up with the ones I knew, and homesickness began to rear its ugly, complicated head.  

 

The paced approach of crunching foliage filtered through the trees to me and disrupted my reverie, but I felt secure enough in our scouts to trust I was safe.  My hands laced patiently over my belly, I waited, and sure enough the sounds came to a stop close by.  “Herald,” came Varric’s curt greeting as he knelt to clean his dinner plate.  

 

“Hullo, Varric.”  I pouted in the darkness.   _ How can I save this?   _ I didn't know how to bring it up, much less apologize or clarify.  Even worse, I had no idea whether broaching the subject of our last conversation would help or hurt my situation.  

 

Fortunately, Varric saved me by diving in himself.  “So about the other day --”  

 

“Varric, I'm sorry!”  I blurted.  My fist smacked the rock beside me in frustration.   _ Good fucking job, Shae. _  “I fucked up.  That’s not the way I wanted to tell you, and maybe I shouldn't have.  But that was low, and I had no business bringing her up like that.  I'm sorry.”

 

It was entirely silent for the span of six whole heartbeats -- yes, I counted -- before the sloshy sounds of handwashing resumed.  “You sure know how to get right to the point, don’t you?”  I could hear the smile return to his voice and my face could have illuminated the whole clearing.  “I accept your apology.  Now, do you want to  _ explain _ what you said?  No, wait.  Do you want to explain  _ how you knew it _ ?”  

 

I sat up on the rock to face him and drew my feet from the water to rest my chin on a knee.  “Uh, I… think maybe... I should figure out how I'm going to do that, first, or else it'll get all messed up again.  I genuinely don’t want to hurt you, Varric.”  

 

“Fair enough.”  He shook the last of the droplets from his hands and stood.  “I spent almost a week thinking about it.  The novelty’s worn off.  Take your time.  Just don't forget, alright?  I’ll remind you eventually.”  

 

“Deal,” I said eagerly and extended my hand for him to shake on it.  Varric chuckled and accepted.  “And please,  _ please  _ call me Mel.  That Herald shit is getting  _ really _ old.”  

 

“I bet.”  He glanced back at the camp.  “Want to head back with me?  You'll miss dinner if you don't.  That one big kid in the hand-me-down robes eats like a druffalo.  I dunno where he puts it, but damn.”

 

“The mage?  His name is Ollyn.  He's alright.”  I hopped off my seat and hooked my boots by a finger, and the damp pads of my feet sunk pleasantly into the warm earth.   _ Maybe it's just being an elf, but walking barefoot is soooo much better. _  “He seems like he wants to help.”  

 

“Can never be too careful nowadays.”  

 

I did manage to snag a stale roll and half a plate of leftovers -- Ollie offered me his, chagrined, though I insisted I was fine -- but to my dismay all the tents had been claimed by at least one person even despite the one I'd tried to keep.  As frustrating as it was I wouldn’t kick someone out of a tent, so I unfurled a spare bedroll beside the fire instead and stretched out atop it, grumpily staring into the flames.  

 

The night dragged on.  Without the canvas around me to muffle the woodland sounds, nature was noisy.  It was hard to stay asleep when every snapped twig or owl hoot jerked me back to reality, and soon I began to develop a headache.  The smoke from the fire was beginning to sting my sinuses, and it mostly obscured the stars.  I eavesdropped on the scouts at shift change and tried to ignore the idle gossip, but I'd long since tired of imagining new constellations, and it was a way to pass the time.   _ One sheep, two sheep, three sheep… _

 

Not long after the first moon passed the peak of its arc the camp silence was split with a scream.  Immediately soldiers began pouring out of tents left and right, stumbling on pants and boots and tripping over pitons;  Cassandra burst from her tent half-armored and half-asleep with her face contorted in bewildered anger, and the roof of Varric’s canopy was suddenly split by a stray crossbow bolt.  Solas’ tent  glowed Fade-green through the gaps in the canvas as he whipped up spells in preparation.  

 

I scrambled out of my bedding, nearly falling into the fire, and lunged at what would have been my bed had I been more insistent.   _ There.  It came from in there. _  My companions were quick on my heels and I threw aside the flap as soon as it was within reach;  as one, we recoiled.  

 

All of my belongings were covered in blood as well as a good portion of the walls.  Solas stepped forward, his face grim, and lifted a hand full of magic light so we could better examine the scene.  There, in the middle of the floor, laid the still-twitching body of a mangled soldier.  His neck had been brutally slashed, but from the looks of him he’d fought back;  his fingers were covered in someone else’s blood, and his scabbard lay across one hand though the sword was missing.  One of my own daggers protruded from his stomach and the other was dropped mere feet away.   _ Guess I know where those went, now. _

 

Cassandra immediately began shouting orders.  “No one is to leave the camp!  Set up a perimeter!  Everyone else, report to the campfire for inspection!”  Her fury set the soldiers running at double speed to obey despite the hushed whispers circulating the clearing.  

 

Varric turned to me, his mouth set in a hard line.  “That was probably supposed to be you.”  

 

“Lucky me,”  I murmured, watching as the soldier’s blood finally stopped oozing entirely and his eyes glassed over.  I knelt beside him, regardless of the puddles, and gently closed his eyes.  “Falon’Din enansal enaste.”  It wasn't my normal blessing for the dead, but the Elven poured from my lips naturally and so I went with it.  

 

I stood to examine the scene before me with a more critical eye;  the blood at the back wall was heavily smeared, and its nearest puddle seemed to extend beyond the barrier of the tent.  There was no blood nearest the entrance where we stood.  I gestured with a hand, “Solas?  Varric?  What do you think?”  

 

His somber mien gave him more an air of a warrior than a scholar as he stepped forward.  “I think it is worth investigation, but not alone.”  A twist of his fingers enveloped the three of us in a shimmering transparent shield, and we sliced through the back of the ruined canvas to follow the trail.  

 

Varric, Solas, and I crept through the dense foliage, following droplets of blood and broken twigs on the ground.  The path drifted as if our suspect was stumbling around, either drunk or injured.   _ Well this feels familiar _ , I thought as I reflected on the second game.  My thoughts were still on the fate of Hawke’s mother when I abruptly collided with Solas’ back and all three of us fell in a tangle.  

 

Varric pushed himself off us with a grunt and slapped the dirt from his tunic, and I rolled to the side.  “Sorry, Chuckles,” he grinned, offering Solas a hand up.  The elf accepted his help with a good-natured glare.  His staff was broken clean in two, though, as it had taken the brunt of the landing.  “We, uh… we've got some spares back at camp, right?  We could turn around.  The trail ends here, anyways.  The guy’s probably long gone by now.”  

 

Solas began to brush the traces of dirt from his sleeve with a pompous air.  “Thank you, Varric, but that is not yet necessary.  I am perfectly capable --”

 

I gasped at movement in the trees above, but that was our only warning as a large, dark shape plummeted directly towards me from the canopy.  Varric pivoted on the spot and fired a bolt simultaneous with Solas’ unfocused blast of raw magic, but I was too slow;  a deep, sharp pain blossomed in my gut as the limp body landed fully on top of me.  He was heavy, especially under loads of iron armor, and it quickly became difficult to breathe.   

 

“Oh,” I grunted, twisting to look into the lifeless eyes of the templar we’d pardoned.   _ So that's where he went.  He was in the trees.  Papa always said, ‘no one ever looks up.’  _  From the singed hair and bolt through his eye it seemed as though he'd been dead before he hit the ground, whatever his intentions, but I discovered -- with terrifying calm -- the dead scout’s sword. 

 

“Shit, Mel!  Here, hang on --”  My two companions grabbed the corpse and began pulling, and my protests were cut short by my own scream.  

 

“I think… maybe… that's not a… good idea.”  My head was pinned awkwardly against the tree trunk, but in the mage light I could see the templar’s fist still clasped tight about the hilt buried in my stomach, sandwiched between us.  Even in the shadows I watched as my tunic was quickly growing an alarming shade of black.   _ Oh.  Fuck.  This is happening, I guess. _  My vision began to blur, and a little voice at the back of my head asked,  _ So we’re supposed to panic now, right? _  But all I could do was giggle.  So I did.  

 

Varric and Solas exchanged a look, and the rogue took off back to camp without a word.  My wolfy friend knelt beside me and through my blood loss I became amazed at how the light he held sparkled off his shaven head.  “Hullo, eggy,”  I whispered, and Solas’ brows got all twisty in the middle.  

 

“Shae,” he began, his voice low and rumbly in a way I didn't want to hear right then, “I am going to attempt to remove his hand from the sword.  Is that alright?”  

 

“Suuuuure, whatev’ ye wan’ do.”   _ Oh, okay.  I sound drunk now.  That's fine.  This is fine.  Everything is fine _ .  

 

With utmost care he began prying the armored fingers from the hilt one at a time, and I avoided outright chanting “This Little Piggy” by staring through the trees above me, snickering at the stars.  He worked silently.  Cassie’s accented shouts carried from the camp and I gasped;  thinking he'd caused me more pain his hands immediately withdrew, only for him to frown at the bewildered expression I wore.  

 

“She’s gonna be so mad,” I whispered, and he sighed.  

 

“-- so the short version is, we went looking for trouble and got Andraste’s herald impaled,”  Varric finished just as he brought Cassandra and a pair of scouts back with him.  The shock on her face was almost comforting.   _ At least someone's panicking for me.  Good ol’ Cassie.  Varric please be my friend before I die! _

 

“Solas, can you --”  

 

“I am  _ trying _ , Seeker,”  he replied through gritted teeth.  “She's gone incoherent.”  Misunderstanding his meaning, I suppose, Cass held my wrists still while the mage finished detaching my templar weight.  I may or may not have made a few lewd comments about light bondage which thankfully everyone chose to ignore.  

 

“Will she live?”   _ Leave it to Cass to cut to the chase. _  But when Solas didn't reply, a tiny bit of worry poked through my exsanguinated haze.  

 

“We cannot remove the sword until we get her back to camp.  And yet,”  Solas murmured, gently examining my side and wincing in sympathy, “it seems as though the sword is buried through her and into the earth.  It will not be easy.”  His worried eyes met mine.  “And it will be excruciating.”  

 

“Pinned like a bug.”  I attempted (and failed) to give him a thumbs up but it seemed as though he understood regardless.   _ Good ol’ egg, bein’ all smart 'n shit. _  “Go fer it.”  

 

I tried very, very hard, not to listen to my companions discussing how best to dig me outta the ground.  Varric was all for Solas blasting the tree to shreds and tilling the dirt to loosen it;  Cassandra wanted to just grab me and pull;  Solas insisted the most efficient way was to just wiggle the sword a bit and I “should” come loose on my own.  None of those options sounded very pleasant.  

 

_ Maybe if I just… kinda… _  I snaked my left hand down beside me and found the soil beneath soft and soaked in my blood.   _ That's not at all creepy. _  I hummed faintly to myself to keep from crying as I tried to claw away some of the dirt, but every movement was clumsy and tingly and pretty much ineffective.  My toes and fingers filled with static as my limbs began to grow numb.  Soon I was panting from exertion, and my friends were still bickering yards away over how best to free me.  “Uh, hey, guys?”  I croaked, but my voice was barely loud enough for even my own ears to catch.  

 

The trees above me spun and I quickly was absorbed into their glittery dance.   _ Oh.  This is the part where I black out, I guess. _  Finally I felt a faint surge of adrenaline, but it was nearly too late;  I had seconds left to take advantage of it.  My skin was whiter than the moons and I was quickly losing my struggle to stay conscious.  

 

“Varric!”  I rasped, frantically wiggling a hand to get his attention.  Solas and Cassandra were deep into a heated argument about the whys of first aid, but thank the gods my favorite rogue noticed me.  

 

He jogged over, kneeling close to my right arm.  “Yeah, kid?”  

 

“Do me… a favor,”  I panted, indicating the sword.  “Just… pull.  To you.  To the ground.”  I swirled my finger to indicate rolling and, doubtful look on his face, he grasped the hilt of the weapon with both hands.  “Like… reload lever.  Bianca.  Flip.”  

 

Understanding dawned on his features and I nearly passed out from relief.  “On three?”  

 

“You,” I gasped.  With an uncomfortable amount of effort I rearranged my legs to get ready to push, placing my feet on gnarled tree roots for extra stability.   _ We can do this.    _

 

“One.”  Varric’s knuckles visibly tightened, and I placed my palms flat on the ground to either side.   _ We're doing this.   _

 

“Two.”  He spoke louder and the nearby bickering stopped.  The scouts exchanged a glance, and I swung my gaze desperately to Varric only to find the same worry reflected back at me.   _ This has to work.   _

 

“Three!”  He grunted and pulled with all his weight as I pushed against the bloody mud, frantically trying to roll myself to the side.  My teeth sank into my tongue, but there was little to no blood and I still couldn't contain my screams.  The other two exclaimed in various other languages and lunged to help, scouts jumping in after them, but nothing they could do would stop the nauseating feeling of wet metal slipping around inside me.  Fingers slid, seeking purchase, and my muscles began to tremble.   _ Please, please be enough _ !  

 

All at once the world spun violently as the sword and I swung free together, flinging dirt and broken roots over us all as Varric fell on his ass, Cassandra nearly fell on top of me, and I came to a stop on my right side before finally slipping into sweet, painless oblivion.  

 

***

 

A yawn escaped me as I walked into my apartment and dropped my keys into the clay bowl by the door.  The sun was rising through my curtains, casting the whole living room in an eerie green glow.   _ What a fuckin’ night _ , I thought, remembering the wild customers.   _ Must be a full moon or something.   _

 

I dropped my bag on the coffee table and kicked off my shoes, thankful I didn’t have any roommates to upset by leaving them where they fell.  My stomach grumbled for attention but I was too tired to cook and so I padded straight to my bedroom instead.  

 

Where the living room was eclectic, my bedroom was downright  _ comfy _ if I do say so myself.  A king bed in the corner was piled high with an assortment of novelty pillows and throws, and a pair of quilts I'd made over the years.  As is necessary for folks who work third shift, thick curtains blocked out the growing sunlight, but a string of fairy lights topped the valance.  The walls were painted a deep blue for calm and sleep, and the rich mahogany floor was polished smooth from age.  My laptop sat dormant on the nightstand along with a couple of novels and a few candles, the ceiling absolutely covered in glow-in-the-dark stars painstakingly recreating the most common local constellations.  I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror on my closet as I closed the door and admitted to myself I didn't wear exhaustion well, but I smiled anyways.  This was my happy place.  

 

Sliding beneath the covers brought a hum of pleasure as I relished the cool cotton sheets against my skin, and I pulled the blankets tight around me to nuzzle deeper into the pillowy depths with a satisfied sigh.   _ Shaetron, form of:  burrito!  Fuck yes.  I missed this.   _ My eyes closed gratefully and I welcomed the deep embrace of sleep.

 

“Shae,” came a whisper over my shoulder and I grumpily swatted in its direction.  

 

“Not now.  Let me sleep.”  Even as I spoke I could feel myself drifting off;  if he’d leave me alone for five seconds it'd be fine.   _ I just wanna sleep. _

 

“ _ Shae _ ,” the voice came again, more insistent this time.  I groaned and pulled the covers over my head. 

 

“Shae!”  

 

“ _ WHAT _ .  WHAT DO YOU WANT.”  I flung the blankets away and rolled over to cuss him out, but the face I found caused my throat to tighten.  “Who -- what --”

 

“Finally,” Solas murmured, and sighed in obvious relief.  He was stretched out beside me on the bare sheet as I am, indeed, a blanket hog.  He his head propped up on one hand.  “I've been trying to get your attention for quite a long time.”

 

“But -- you're not -- you can't --”  I glanced around my room in mild panic.  Everything looked fine.  _  Was I already dreaming?  Since when did I start hallucinating video game characters in my bedroom?  And why  _ him _ of all choices? _

 

“Shae, it is imperative you pay attention.  Could you focus on me, please?”  I turned, bewildered expression on my face, and he smiled in encouragement.  “Very good.  Please, listen closely.  

 

“You have been through quite a lot of trauma recently.  I believe your mind has used the opportunity of your injury to cushion you, but we can only do so much.  We need your help.”  Solas sat up and pulled my shoulder gently until I did the same.

 

“My… injury?”  Though my thoughts were racing I was drawing a blank.  “What, you mean that bar fight a few hours ago gave me a concussion or something?”  

 

“No.  Do you know why I am here?”  His lips pursed slightly.  I  _ wanted  _ to answer him;  I didn’t want to disappoint him for some reason, but I still had nothing.  

 

“No?  I mean, sure, I like your character, but to be honest I was way more into Fenris.”  I shrugged, pulling the quilt tighter around me even though he was trying to take it away.  “I dunno.  Maybe my brain chose you as an avatar because I always enjoyed your game conversations.  I liked your Fade stories.  Am I in the hospital?”

 

“Mmm.  You are not in a hospital.  Which Fade story was your favorite?”  Solas gently pried the blanket from my hands and I was sufficiently distracted to allow it.

 

“Well, there was the Qunari baker, who reveled in her hidden rebellions.  There was the spirit of love who blessed the small town by playing matchmaker.”  I ticked them off on my fingers.  “There was the farmhand who lost the sheep --”

 

“Focus on the farmhand.”  His expression became intense and he took my left hand, flipped it over, and frowned at my palm.  Oddly, I didn't feel as weirded out by the touch as I would have;  normally I’m all about the personal bubble.  I was always picky about when touch was initiated by strangers, even a handshake.  “At which point in the game did I tell you this story?”

 

“You… I…”  Scowling, I stared at a wall.  “I don't remember.”

 

“It's alright.  Just focus, keep trying to remember.”  His gentle fingers disassembled my braid and combed through the curls.  “Mana, falon.  Ma halani.  Please remember.”  

 

“...you never told that story in the game,”  I whispered, and a sharp pain in my gut caused me to flinch.  I slapped a hand over it and winced.   _ What the fuck? _

 

“Excellent.”  He scooted behind me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, urging me to lean back against him.  Surprisingly there were no romantic overtures, just simple concern.   _ Huh.  He's pretty nice, I guess. _  “You're doing very well.  It may get painful, but you must do this on your own.”  

 

The pain in my abdomen spread to the hand I had placed over it, and I peeled back my fingers to look;  my gray camisole was seeping a deep red, and my left palm burned brightly acid green.  I gasped and covered the wound again with my hand even as the sharp ache roiled my stomach and my panic began to surface.  “It…  you told me.  In person.  But --”  

 

“You’re almost there, falon.  Focus on my voice.  I will do what I can for the pain.”  His aura slipped over me, warm and secure, dulling both my nausea and my injury and tasting faintly of dandelions.  

 

“I… was in the game.”  Panting, now, I leaned into him more fully in my confusion and he hugged me a little tighter.  

 

“We need more.  What role did you play?”  

 

“I…  I became the herald.  I took your Mark.  I--”  My words were strangled by a sudden wave of excruciating pain and I jerked.  Were it not for Solas’ arms holding me tight I would have rolled straight off the bed;  as we were, I simply curled up and whimpered.  

 

“You did.  You received my Mark and began with the Inquisition.  There was an elven servant you took under your wing;  do you remember her name?”

 

“Elan,”  I murmured and with her name the full extent of my recent memory came roaring back, setting every nerve on fire as it entirely renewed the pain.   _ Hinterlands.  Varric.  Refugees.  Cass cutting onions.  Dead scout.  Templar -- _  Tears began rolling down my cheeks unbidden.  “I remember.  I remember Haven, and the Hinterlands.  Solas, it hurts.  So much.  Am I dying?”

 

“Not today,” he said, pride lighting his voice.  His mana surged to tackle my increased distress and I shivered as it left me feeling a little chilled.  “You did well, Shae.  I have been trying to make contact with you for two days.  We have been unable as of yet to stabilize your wound;  you lost too much blood, and would not wake.”  

 

“Have I been dreaming?”  I clutched his shirt and let the tears flow;  even under his comforting spells the pain still broiled deep in my abdomen, though muted.  He simply held me, my head tucked beneath his chin.  

 

“Intermittently.  I believe you've been dancing around a coma.”  Now that I was cognizant, I suppose, he pulled the blankets back over us and carefully tucked them around me.  “Your new mage friend and I have done all we can.  I worried that, without your mind fighting to survive as well, we would fail.  I had to try.”

 

“Thank you, Solas.”  I closed my eyes and sighed.  “I owe you.”  

 

“Please, no.”  He chuckled.  “My reasons were purely selfish, believe me.  I've come to value your friendship, and I would grieve your untimely passing.  A sad wolf is not nearly as commanding, you see.”  

 

Despite the situation I smiled.   _ Aww. _

 

His hand squeezed my shoulder reassuringly and he leaned to the side to peer into my eyes.  “You seem to have come back to us, at any rate.  Do you feel strong enough to follow me out of the Fade?”  

 

“Is that a metaphor?”  I sat up with care, his hands guiding me, and placed my feet on the floor beside the bed.  “Or am I literally going to be following you?”  

 

“Mmm.  A little of both.”  He laughed at what I’m sure was a comedically astounded expression on my face and stood, his hand extended towards me.  “Shall we?”  

 

“Uhh…”   _ There’s always still a chance that this is just one fucked-up dream. _ _ I could still be hallucinating.  I could be dead, fuck, I don’t know.   _ “Do I just…?”

 

Solas’ patient smile became just slightly more strained.  “I will not lose you again;  this I swear.”   _ Well that certainly didn’t sound threatening at  _ all _.  Guess there’s nothing for it. _

 

“Allons-y, I suppose,” I muttered, and dropped my palm into his.  

 

“You speak Orlesian?”  

 

“Back home, we call it ‘French.’”

 

The walls of my bedroom began to twist and shimmer away, overtaken by the dark and vibrant green landscape of the true Fade.  “Simply focus on me and you will be fine.”   _ I feel like I’m in a cheesy Instagram photo op _ , I thought as I followed him hand-in-hand through speeding, blurred landscapes despite our slow steps.  Sounds rushed past my ears, sometimes too quiet to discern and others too loud to hear without pain.  Colors flashed and I caught glimpses of curious spirits as some took notice of us, watching our progression.  

 

_ Is everything getting… greener? _  He glanced back over his shoulder at me one last time before the light ahead of us became too bright for me to see anything, and --  

 

“Welcome back,”  Cassandra’s voice washed over me.  It took rather a lot of effort but I was able to open my eyes a smidge;  her dark form hovered in the corner of my dim tent.  By the sounds through the open doorway, we were still in the Hinterlands.  

 

“Thanks.”  My throat crackled with disuse and Scout Harding handed me a glass of water.  I leaned forward to drink it, but Solas’ hand reached my shoulder before the stabbing pain reached my brain and he held me down.  

 

“That is not wise.”  Once he was sure I wouldn’t move, he let go and sat back on a small stool at my bedside.  “You have missed… quite a lot.  I will fill you in once you’ve caught up with our friends;  in the meantime, I will send someone to fetch you something to eat.”  

 

He excused himself from the tent and I looked around;  I’d almost forgotten I was still, essentially, at the beginning of the game.  Only Cassandra, Varric, Ollyn, and Scout Harding were with me.  I opened my mouth to talk and was cut off by both Ollie and Varric speaking at the same time:  

 

“Hey, uh, kid --”  

 

“My lady Herald --” 

 

“--have you always had so many --” 

 

“--where is your --”  

 

“ _ \--freckles _ ?”  

 

“ _ \--vallaslin _ ?”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wELP


	5. Sera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whether intentional or not, the Inner Circle is expanding and the plot is progressing. Onward to Val Royeaux, and additional shenanigans! :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI HELLO. Yes. Uh. 
> 
> Sorry. 
> 
> I ... have no excuse, honestly. It's been six months-ish since I even touched this, but I hit a block over on my Mass Effect fic and was all like, 'Heeeeey, I should work with that DA fic too,' and here we are. 
> 
> The good news is, now that I have two major stories going, I think any time I hit a block I'll just ping pong back and forth. No promises on an update schedule because *yay depression* but there is a possibility, at least, that I can juggle just the two. 
> 
> ANYWAYS I'M SO SORRY, HAVE A *GIANT* CHAPTER TO MAKE UP FOR IT, MWUAH <3
> 
> ETA: ...I apologize for the ridiculous amount of typos. Apparently writing on mobile is just a terrible idea for me. Gimme like a day and I think I can prune redundancies. Thanks for your patience! <3

Despite my insistence to the contrary, Ollyn tended to almost every need I had as well as a few perceived needs I really didn’t even want.  He was determined to keep my cup full with fresh water from the nearby stream, even helping me take sips (to my embarrassment) when Solas insisted they all needed to ensure I wouldn’t risk aggravating my wounds by sitting up in the slightest fashion.  As uncomfortable as it was, I let them tend to me;  I didn’t really have a choice.  I’d spent a meek several minutes trying to avoid suspicion about the sudden change in appearance, and Cass was consistently eyeing me.  I was at the mercy of her patience.   _ Friggin’ Seeker and her friggin’ … seeking. _

 

According to Ollie, the wound was severe enough that it would take at least a day’s worth of healing sessions and as many potions as I could chug before I would see any real improvement in movement or function.  “The best we were able to manage was to stop the bleeding, but -- by the time -- you were  _ blue.   _ Your heartbeat was so faint,”  he whispered, features pained, “we couldn’t find your pulse.  We thought you were truly gone.”  

 

“Your idea to flip you outta the ground worked well enough,”  Varric said as he sat on the end of my cot.  “Problem was, it just helped you bleed out faster.”  

 

Solas backed through the tent flap, his hands carrying a pair of bowls.  “The sword itself acted as a sort of seal;  when you moved, the seal was dislodged.  You nearly died beneath that tree.”  He handed me my serving and kept the other to himself as he resumed his place on the stool beside me.  “If Ollyn had not been already on his way to assist, you would not be here now.”  

 

“Sounds like now I owe  _ you  _ now, Ollie,” I said with a smile.  He did try to return it, which was progress.  The dark circles under his eyes were proof enough of his worry.   _ Poor kid.   _ “Does this mean we’re even?”  

 

“I will continue to serve the Inquisition and to serve you, my lady Herald.”  Ollie gave a stiff bow -- not for lack of trying;  he moved as though sore -- and excused himself.  “If anyone has need of me, please let me know.  I will be in my tent.”  

 

We all watched him go, and Varric sighed.  “Your mages have been by your side constantly for two days.  Ollyn never slept, and Chuckles here would only sleep after Cass suggested he find you in the Fade.”  He plucked a roll from my dish and tore off a chunk.  “They went through all the potions in camp trying to keep you alive, so we’re dead on lyrium and health for the time being.  We had to send to the Crossroads for more, and they didn’t have a lot.”  Shaking his head, he tossed the hunk of bread into his mouth.  

 

My fingers twisted in the sheets.   _ Jesus christ, why, though?   _ And then I remembered:   _ if I die, the Mark might go with me.   _ My gaze flicked to Solas whose unreadable face either could not or would not confirm my suspicions, but in the end, I figured it didn’t really matter;  regardless of their reasons, I was grateful for my life.  

 

“But  _ why _ has her appearance changed?”  Ever to the point, Cassandra stepped closer to the bed, peered at my hair, and extended a small, palm-sized mirror for me to see for myself.   My roots had darkened through the first couple of inches to my normal inky black, which was a stark contrast with the rest of the waist-length auburn hair;  it looked like a three-months-old dye job.  The brown vallaslin honoring Mythal had dissolved into the familiar pattern of my own tan freckles, nearly rivalling Harding’s;  my eyes, though they had been brown, had lightened to a hazel -- some sort of mix between Melyria’s natural color and my own aloe hue.  Even my vision itself was slightly impaired, though thankfully not as badly as it was at home, but there was no telling how long that would last.  My ears weren’t as long as they had been, either.   _ So now the real me is bleeding through into Thedas.  Fuckin’ great.  Do they have glasses here?  I can't remember.   _

 

“I cannot be sure,” Solas eventually replied before buying himself another mouthful of time.  He took his time swallowing.  “It  _ could _ be a spell.”  

 

Cassandra scoffed.  “I have never heard of a spell which causes this.”

 

If I hadn’t been lying five feet from him in person, I never would have seen the flash of a twitch at the corner of his mouth.  “I … have seen it in the Fade.”   _ So the Dread Wolf  _ does _ have a sense of humor! _

 

Her armor creaked as she shifted on her feet and regarded us with narrow eyes.  My dumb ass had tried to keep a secret from a Seeker;  I should have known she’d be the first to catch on.  “Do you think I am  _ stupid _ ?”

 

With a pained sigh, I grimaced at her in some weird auto-expression as my body tried to communicate embarrassed apology.  “Sorry. It’s… quite a long story.”

 

“Trust me,” came Varric’s chuckle from the corner of the tent.  “She has no problem with long stories.”  Cassandra made a show of dragging over a stool in near-smug confirmation and Varric only shook his head.  

 

“Which of you would like to begin?”  she asked, eyebrow raised as she regarded each Solas and myself in turn.  “You both seem to know something that we do not.  Is this some ... elf ...  _ thing _ ?”  

 

“No, I swear.  It’s not an elf thing.”  A quick glance over and I could see the barest twitch at the back of Solas’ hand curled around his food.  Otherwise his expression remained aloof and only mildly interested;  he wanted to see how much I’d tell, I’m sure.  “It’s just… incredibly weird.  Er, otherworldly so.”  I cleared my throat a bit to clear out some of the last bit of raspiness, and to give myself an extra second.  “Uh, Varric, I may need to ask you to leave.  The only proof I have is pretty much always going to be personal by necessity.”

 

“I will judge whether he needs to leave, thank you.”  Definitely not impressed so far.   _ I’m so fucked. _ _ This can go wrong at literally any moment. _  “Please.   _ Enlighten me. _ ”  

 

Haltingly, I told her nearly the exact same story I told Solas.  I explained the difference in technology and explained video games in nearly the same way, even my lack of knowledge about my existence in Thedas, as a Dalish;  my elven conspirator simply waited, tense.  And then I got to the important part:  “And because of all this, and where I come from, I know how this game plays out.  If I mirror the same steps, the outcome could be the same,  _ should _ be the same.  It could be an advantage.”  I took a deep, shaky breath.  “And your story is my proof.”  

 

Cassandra’s expression wasn’t hostile or angry, just … disgusted.  Because of course.  And when she continued to not say anything, and Varric continued to gape, I settled on the least embarrassing but also most convincing proof I could think of and started just … rattling off names in the closest approximation to chronological order I could manage.  “Matthias, Tigana, Anthony, Loren, Markus, Vestalus, Byron, Aldren, Avexis, Frenic, Lazarro, Callista, Martel, Rega--”

 

“Enough!”  Her pale skin shivered in the warm afternoon light angling in the tent door, and her brow shone with a thin smear of sweat.  “Please.”  

 

“Overwhelming, yes?” Solas’ smirked in her direction. “For what it’s worth, Seeker, she did the same to me.”  The glance he threw me said with finality,  _ and we’re going to leave it at that. _  Not a problem, dude.    

 

Varric canted his head.  “So, the freckles…”

 

After a swallow, Solas simply shrugged.  “I do not know why, nor how, but it appears her stint deep in the Fade may have triggered the changes.”  His eyes roved my face, body -- calculating.  “It would seem she is now half human.”

 

“What about Clan Lavellan?”  

 

The four of us shared a bewildered look.   _ That … could get messy. _

 

“Look, it -- This probably really shouldn’t leave the tent, for now.  It’s just weird and entirely unknown, and --”  I grimaced.  “I mean,  I have absolutely  _ zero _ problem answering, uh …  _ most _ questions y’all might have, but … Varric can testify that I’m not so good with explaining things, sometimes.  I need to think about it, first.  We haven’t figured out … well, anything about this, really.”  Cass narrowed her eyes, but I could only shrug.  “I swear on my life I intend to tell at  _ least _ Cullen and Leliana and Josephine, and anyone else who … gains a, uh, prominent rank, but … I need to figure out how best to do that.  I need to figure out how much I can share safely, so I don’t mess up other things.  And there are  _ so _ many variables to consider.  Timelines, personalities, enemy movements, reactions...  If I use too much of what I know too quickly, things could be irrevocably changed.  We could very easily  _ lose  _ this advantage.”  

 

“I understand.  I am not entirely convinced, however … ”  Cassandra’s hand, which had mostly been hovering near the hilt of her sword, thankfully fell to her side.  “... it will do for now.  I will be expecting a more detailed explanation in time.”

 

Solas finished his stew with a slight grimace;  leftovers can only be reheated so many times before they lose their appeal.  “If you'll excuse me.  Now that she is conscious, I need rest, myself.”  He stood and turned to offer me a reassuring smile, then slipped back through the tent flap, using his staff more like a cane.

 

“You’re getting better at explaining it, apparently.” Varric nudged me with a smirk as he took over Solas’ little chair beside my cot.  

 

“You know things you should not know,” Cassandra murmured through a frown, “and I believe you, for the most part.  But I am not satisfied.  Knowledge is not proof, though it  _ is  _ evidence.  I still need to know that you are who you say you are -- although I have no idea  _ how _ \-- but for the time being, it will hurt nothing to let you rest.”  With that settled, she stood and made to leave as well.  “We will talk more another time.”  

 

Aaaaand she was gone.  

 

Varric huffed.  “You went easier on  _ her _ .”  

 

“Nah, I just learned a way  _ not _ to do it.  I’m still sorry I butchered that so bad.”  

 

“Don’t be.  It’s a hell of a story.  I don’t really blame you for not getting it perfectly right every time.”  His amber eyes swung to meet mine.  “You’re going to need friends.  I don’t know if you’ve realized it yet or not, but this might actually make everything worse for you.  The pressure would be worse than if you had never remembered your home.”  

 

“I mean, I’ve thought a bit about it.”  My fingers absentmindedly pulled at a loose string in my blanket, working it into a small hole.  “There’s always going to be the risk that even if I do everything perfectly, something could go wrong.”  

 

“Even worse, there’s always the risk that  _ everything  _ could go wrong.”  He chuckled when I stiffened, but shrugged.  “Hey, it’s true.  You’re going to be second-  triple-  and quadruple-guessing yourself every step of the way.  You’re going to forget things.  And if you fuck up, you’re going to feel even worse, because you already know the outcome.”  His silhouette shivered as he shook himself out of a stare.  “Shit, kid, I wouldn’t wish knowing the future on anyone.”  

 

“...you’re certainly correct,” I muttered from halfway under the blanket.   _ Well ain’t this just grand. _

 

“So did, uh…”  Varric shifted in place, brows knit, “... did you not  _ know _ he would be in the tree, or what?”  

 

“Oh.”   _ That’s a good point;  already, so much of what I know of Thedas is different than what I expected.  So how much of my experience is still applicable?  How in the  _ hell _ am I going to survive?! _  “Well… the game tended to … gloss over things.  Like journeys, and time in general, I guess?  You could select your destination from the war table and then  _ bam! _  You were just suddenly  _ there _ .  And Ollyn wasn’t in the game, either;  other characters rarely surrendered, and you aren’t given the option to offer parley unless it’s related to the main plot.  Haven was also… much smaller.”  The worry on my face matched his as our eyes met.  “So either I fucked up and almost died as a result, or it was just an anomaly the game didn’t cover, or…”  

 

“Ah.”  The rogue chewed on a lip while he filtered through the information, made sense of it as best he could.  “So even if you know the big picture, the details can still kill you.   _ Or _ , if you’re  _ really  _ unlucky, even making tiny changes are gonna end up biting you on the ass -- or stomach, as it were.  Well, stabbing.   _ Well…  _ impaling.”  

 

“When you put it like  _ that… _ ”

 

Varric clapped his hands and I jumped.  “Enough about the end of the world.  While you were out, we made contact with Dennet.  He's okay.  He's holed up pretty good, and not just because of demons.  There's these wolves terrorizing his farmers.  No idea what got into them.”  The rogue patted my knee almost affectionately.  “He needs some assistance from us before he can help us.  Watchtowers, clearing some roads, that sort of thing.  We figured you'd want to help, so Harding went ahead and put the message through.”

 

_ You're fantastic,  _ I thought, beaming.  “You're right.  Make sure he has anything he needs within our power.  Good call.” 

 

“I’ve got things to do, myself.  Letters to write, as always.”  Varric stood with a grunt and straightened his signature red leather jacket.  “You  _ do  _ need to rest.  Folks will be around to check on you, and the Seeker has guards around the tent.”  He snorted, but the humor in his expression was thankfully clear.  “I’m sure you knew that would happen, though.”  

 

“Don’t everyone run away at once.”  With a grumble and a sigh, I melted deeper into what must have been every pillow in camp.  Even without Solas by my side I wasn't in much pain.   _ There must have been something in my drink _ .  I cracked an eye to glance at the mug on the table nearby but decided I was too lazy to try and reach it for further inspection.   _ Eh.  Not gonna question it, just gonna float. _

 

“Don’t worry, Freckles.  Soon you’ll be famous and have  _ no _ privacy.  Enjoy it while you can.”  

 

He was already halfway out of sight before it clicked.  “ _ Varric! _ ”

 

“Yeeeeees?”  The dwarf stuck his head back around the edge of the tent, smirking. 

 

_ No.  Fucking.  Way.   _ As giddy as I felt, my limbs were heavy and I couldn’t quite  _ vibrate _ the way I wanted to, but I managed to wiggle a bit.  Varric would always be a fave. __ “...is that my nickname?!”

 

The last thing I saw before I conked out was his bright smile.   _ Do they have Crest in Thedas?  He should be in a toothpaste commercial. _

 

I dreamt about dentists with glorious chest hair.  

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


Cassandra’s clinking armor woke me as she entered my tent and, despite my initial confusion, I finally figured out I'd fallen asleep for at least a few hours according to the low, orange beams of fading daylight.  Smearing away any remaining sleep sand from my eye with the back of one hand, I waved with the other.  “Hey, Cass.”

 

“Good evening, Herald.”  Her arm snapped out at me with a parchment held between her fingers.  “A missive from Sister Leliana.  It seems we are needed in Val Royeaux.”  

 

My gaze scanned the note, fixating on the spymaster’s raven-stamped signature.   _ Kinda heavy-handed, Nightingale. _  “This is fine.  We could travel there directly to save time.  Meanwhile we can leave some troops to clean up the Hinterlands and assist the refugees on behalf of the Inquisition.”  My brows knit slightly at the thought.   _ In the game, all those little quests had to be done in person.  Will this interfere with the plot?  Should I stay and wait, or delegate and heal on the road?  Oh, wait, shit!  The rifts!  _  “...Maybe Harding would be willing to monitor relations and reputation in the interim, but I’d need a map to mark out the rifts I remember.  She should avoid those until we get back.”   _ Basically, what I'm supposed to be doing. _  “Only if she wants to, though.  No pressure.”

 

Cass gave a curt nod.  “Very well.  I will ask her.  Do you think you will be fit to travel in time?”

 

“Ollyn mentioned something about healing sessions.  If I'm not ready now, maybe after the first one.  He needs to get plenty of rest, first.”  My Marked hand gingerly probed the bandages framing my lower ribs and most of my abdomen.  The movement elicited a ridiculously sore protest from my muscles, but no sharp spikes of pain poked through the probable-elfroot haze.  “But just the one session at most, I think.”  

 

The Seeker turned to leave, but then hesitated.  Her features softened as she looked at me and a warmth blossomed in my chest.  “I am glad you lived.  It would have been a great loss had you not.”

 

“Thank you, Cassandra.”  My smile was automatic and genuine;  I’d always been fond of the woman.   _ Is that creepy?  That’s probably a little creepy. _  “You won't be rid of me that easy, though.”  

 

She snorted.  “Is there anything else you need before I leave?”

 

“Maybe some reading material?”  I grinned sheepishly at her sudden, violent blush.  

 

“I -- do you -- what -- ”  

 

“Uh… yes?”   _ I don't want to, like, call you out directly.  I just want something to read, Cass!  Please share, I won't tell!  _

 

She stood frozen for a moment, caught between confession and a lie.  Pretty sure I saw a twitch in her cheek.  After a moment she decidedly strode away, muttering something about “asking around.”  I buried my giggle in the blanket from fear of her being close enough to hear, and was rewarded with a distant disgusted noise.  

 

Alone was boring, but it didn’t stay that way for long.  Solas eased past the flap-door with Ollyn in tow, the latter’s arms full with a basket of supplies.  They checked dressings, magicked me up -- Solas offering tips, Ollie pleasantly open to advice -- and generally fussed until the rest of my new friends wandered in over time.  

 

“Hey, Harding.” I greeted her with a smile as Solas finished wrapping gauze around my abs ( _ Damn, Melyria, thanks for the six pack? _ ) and the dwarf returned my grin.

 

“You  _ can _ call me Lace, y’know.  ‘Harding’ just seems so stuffy after I’ve seen your guts,” drawled the scout as she stepped under the canopy.  Straight to business, she unrolled a map of the Hinterlands across my legs.  

 

“It's a pleasure, Lace.”  She handed me a quill and ink, and I murmured my thanks.  “Please, call me Mel.”  

 

“Sure thing.”  Hovering by my side, her eyes followed my movements as I began to make notes on the parchment.  “I can’t stay, though.  The Seeker filled me in;  I’m off to round up some able bodies to build a few watchtowers.  I hope you don't mind, but I took back my daggers.  I mean, we  _ did _ find yours.”  

 

“Of course.  Thank you for lending them to me.”   _ Was that rift … further south?  Shit, I can’t remember.  Or were there two of them in that area?  Hell. _  “Uh … I can’t promise pinpoint accuracy, but--”

 

“I still don’t know how you  _ know _ where they are,” Lace muttered as she twisted around to see the map from my perspective.  “Is it because of the Mark?”  

 

Glancing to Solas in the corner and finding him mid-drink, we locked eyes;  with as best an impression as I could muster, I gravely intoned, “I saw it in the Fade.”  

 

He choked, nearly dropped the waterskin, and threw me a good-natured glare.  

 

“Works for me, if it keeps my ass above the grass.”  The scout waved her hands at the fresh ink for a few seconds before rolling it back up.  “Either way, I appreciate it.”

 

“Just … be careful, okay?”   _ This doesn’t feel right.  It’s supposed to be me.  If Lace dies …  _  “If anything, at any point, feels off in any way, retreat immediately.  Stay safe, keep your folks safe.  And this rift right here --”   _ Gods know it kicked my ass dozens of times, _ I thought, pointing to one at the base of a waterfall near a druffalo fetch-quest, “-- is  _ hell _ .  Give it a wide berth.  Matter of fact...”  My gaze flicked around the map.   _ Dwarven smugglers, templar camp, possessed wolves, bears, bandits, rifts…  _ “Uh, just avoid  _ all _ the waterfalls.”   _ Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea... _

 

“Awww.”  Lace patted my head with a lopsided smirk.  “Don’t worry ‘bout li’l ol’ me.  I know almost every inch of these hills.  This kinda thing is why I’m here.”  She ruffled my hair before ducking back out, and I sighed.   _ So cute. _

  
  
  


***

 

  
  
The journey to Val Royeaux was thankfully uneventful for the most part.  

 

By day, Ollyn -- a Circle-trained healer, I’d found -- tended my physical recovery and guided me through some simple core exercises each morning to strengthen my stamina and currently-delicate abdominal muscles.  The movements reminded me quite a bit of Tai Chi, even, though he called it something else, of course;  privately, it was slightly frustrating to discover the hint of Chinese influence despite the desperate lack of such in-game.  Misinterpreting my mood likely as impatience, he made an effort to reassure me often that we would stock up on healing potions once we reached Orlais.

The nights, however, continued to be primarily getting to know Solas in the Fade.  Most of our meetings took place in the same glade I’d become so fond of without my even having to ask, and each night’s questions seemed to have a different theme:  the last night before we arrived at Val Royeaux, the topic turned, once again, to family.  

 

“Once, you asked me to change the question.  I will do so again if you want;  it is just curiosity, really.”  Stretched out in a sunbeam, he laced his fingers behind his head and watched the clouds pass.  “Do you have family back home?”  

 

I sighed.  Laying the opposite direction, my head near his elbow, I looked over to examine his face;  there was no duplicity in his expression.   _ It’s getting harder to tell where Fen’Harel ends and Solas begins.   _ “Are you going to tell me about  _ your _ family?”  

 

Silence.  

 

“That’s what I thought.”  

 

“May I ask  _ why _ ?”  

 

Grunting, I sat up, and at the rustle of grass behind my back I turned.  He sat, almost my mirror, one arm draped across a raised knee.  He appeared calm but concerned, and my chest tightened.  “I know you don’t mean anything by it, for the record.  It’s just … hard.  To talk about.  ”  

 

“Ah.”  

 

I rolled a shoulder anxiously, gritted my teeth.  “We aren’t …  _ weren’t  _ on good terms.  I haven’t seen any of them in … gods, years _. _  Since I was just a kid.”  

 

“‘Gods?’”  Solas’ ears perked visibly and had me immediately backtracking.  

 

“Ooh-ho-ho-hoooo no.  Nuh-uh.  Nope.  No  _ sir. _  It is  _ way _ too early in this friendship for  _ that _ conversation.”  I rose to my feet and tried to make for the edge of the clearing -- the edge of the Fade construct, my only exit -- but Solas easily intercepted me, hands placating and eyebrow raised.  

 

“And if I were to press this answer?”  The beginnings of a smirk danced around his lips as I resisted the urge to stomp my foot and pout.  

 

“Really?   _ This _ is what you -- ugh,  _ fine. _ ”  I gave in to the pout and slid to the forest floor beneath a tree.  “...christ, you have to ask the most  _ complicated  _ \-- Look.  Back home, there are … yeah, probably thousands of different religions.  I mean, in Thedas there are -- what, like, five?  Our biggest religion is based around a figure named Jesus Christ, who was… well, essentially a male Andraste?  I guess?  I dunno.  I’m not Christian, but there are a  _ lot _ of parallels.”  

 

Solas was  _ fascinated _ .  “You -- thousands?   _ Thousands _ of different religions?”

 

“Yup.”  I waited for a moment, let that sink in.  “Don’t get me wrong, I mean, it’s caused a  _ lot _ of war.  But I’m what’s called ‘pagan.’  It’s technically an umbrella term for religions that aren’t the Big Three -- Christianity, Judaism, Islam -- but can also be a path in and of itself.  Personally, I tend towards eclecticism.  That essentially just means I evaluate wisdom from a variety of different beliefs, and … how did he -- oh, right.  I ‘take charge of the search for answers that settle my soul.’  Which, in my opinion, is the entire purpose of religion in the first place.”  

 

His lips twisted wryly and he sighed.  “Do I need to pry more, or will you simply offer it?  The concept is not  _ entirely _ foreign to me, but it has … been a long time.”  

 

“Sure, I guess?  There’s not much to tell.  I read a lot.  Uh, the entire foundation of my belief boils down to, ‘do no harm, take no shit.’  It’s … if there  _ is _ a Creator -- a Maker, I guess -- I like to think it’s present in all living things, and to some extent, all forms of matter.  To me, it’s all just ‘The Divine,’ but … different, uh, flavors?  I guess?  Can be called upon, depending on your goal.  So,  _ gods _ .  I also find myself having to adjust my world view on a frequent basis.  It works for me, because it’s  _ always _ good to accept that one could be wrong, but…”  My fingers dug into the loam, something tactile to ground me.  “I dunno.  Thedas is still throwing me for a loop.  I don’t … really know what to make about it, spiritually.”  

 

For a few moments, the glade was silent aside from the birdsong in the canopy.  “And you were reluctant to talk about it …?”  

 

I snorted.  “At home, if you tell people you’re a  _ pagan _ , they … don’t look at you the same.  At best, we’re considered crazy.”  

 

“And at worst?”  

 

“Evil?  People generally fear the unknown.”  He nodded, lost in thought.  “But one thing -- of many, I’m sure -- I never figured out in the game … I -- okay, so you can  _ totally _ tell me to fuck off, but --”  My head thunked back against the bark of the tree behind me.  “It wasn’t until the very end of the last game that the Inquisitor -- and, by extension, I -- learned your true name.  And even then, the lore never -- I mean, Evanuri culture was never --”

 

“Ah.”  His jaw tensed, and he wouldn’t meet my eyes.   _ Is there a line here I’m about to cross? _  “And what  _ do _ you know of the Evanuris?”  

 

“Well…”   _ Geez, where to start?   _ “I know their names.  Elgar’nan, Mythal, uh... you, Falon’din, Dirthamen, Andruil, Sylaise, June, and Ghilan’nain.  All Elvhen mages, generals I think?  There was a  _ huge _ war -- against the Titans, I think, or maybe the Forgotten Ones, or both?  And over time, most of them became corrupted.  Power-hungry, desperate.  They used the vallaslin for slaves.  You… opposed them.”  He hummed vaguely, and I forged on.  “And then … they murdered Mythal.  So you banished them with the Veil.”  

 

Solas was quiet for a long time.  “...Your knowledge is both unsettling and refreshing.  What else do you know of us?”  

 

“Jeez, there’s both so much and so little.  Uh, Arlathan was maybe the capitol?  In the game, when the Inq -- uh, Herald asks, you simply tell her, ‘ _ Imagine instead spires of crystal twining through the branches, palaces floating among the clouds. Imagine beings who lived forever, for whom magic was as natural as breathing. That is what was lost.’ _  The People banished the Forgotten Ones for a betrayal, something about taking on forms they shouldn’t -- made it sound like dragons were involved, honestly.  Uh, varterrals were created to protect the eluvians, I think.  The People built cities both in Thedas and in specially-created little … Fade-pocket-dimension things.  Falon’Din started wars just to force more people to worship him;  Mythal battled Andruil…”  My eyes cut to him, but he was still as a statue, head turned away -- “Do you … should I stop?”  

 

“No.”  

 

“Uh, okay.”  Nervous, I wiped my palms against the grass.  “Mythal cared for her people, but you -- according to the game -- were the only one who saw the injustice.  So you fought, and you freed all the slaves you could, and led a rebellion.”  

 

“Yes.”  

 

“To … punish you,”  I was watching him closely, but he only waited for me to continue, “the other Evanuris, they … killed Mythal.  And it gets a bit murky between actual lore and Dalish myth, but you were able to banish the other Evanuris when you created the Veil at Skyhold, though some thought you banished the Forgotten Ones also?  But it nearly killed you, and you fell into Uthenera.  The People … fell apart.  And eventually Tevinter sank Arlathan into the Earth and enslaved the elves, and over time they forgot their history and … the Dalish are all that’s left, now.”  

 

“I was not the one who banished the Forgotten Ones, no.  But otherwise…”  The smile he gave me was regretful, and a sympathetic echo shot through my chest.  “...even considering your origins, your knowledge of the People is impressive.  Still, unsettling.  But impressive.”  

 

My cheeks heated and I brought my knees to my chest, wrapped my arms around them.  “Before the Evanuris came to power … who did the People worship?”  

 

“Those who came to be Forgotten.”  Solas leaned back on the tree with me, legs stretched in front of him and fingers laced across his stomach.  “They were old, and they were powerful.  The Evanuris wished to emulate them and render them obsolete;  they claimed it was time for the People to evolve beyond such deep ties to the past.”  His disgusted scoff would have made Cassandra proud.  “Falon’Din was the first.  He was not the last.”

 

_ Ties to the past?   _ Emulate _?!  Wait.  Waaaait a minute.   _ “Solas.  I have a question.”  

 

“Mm?”

 

“The Dalish myths ... say that you were able to trick -- yes, I know it wasn’t you, but all myths have a  _ kernel _ of truth, at least -- the Dalish mythology says you tricked both the Forgotten Ones and the Evanuris because you could walk among them both.  That you were  _ kin. _ ” His shoulders tensed.  “...if memory serves, there was only ever one Forgotten god who was directly mentioned with Fen’Harel.  Well, only one story about it that  _ survived. _ ”  

 

Slowly,  _ so  _ slowly, he turned to me.  His eyes were hard as flint.   _ Shit.  That’s the wolf.  That’s the fucking General right there.  I done fucked up, yo.   _ “And which story was that?”

 

“Uh.”   _ This would be an  _ excellent  _ time to wake up.  Wake up!  Wake uuuppp!  Damn it! _  “Actually, I … sorry, I … forgot?”  I felt my smile shake, and already I knew there was no use;  getting kicked out of the drama club in high school had made it  _ very _ clear that  _ I have no business acting.   _

 

“And why do I not believe you?”  Solas’ gaze was cool, but his muscles were drawn tight, ready to move, and I was  _ not _ about to trip that wire.  

 

“Um.  Solas, buddy, friend,  _ pal _ .  You’re kinda … freakin’ me out here.  Let’s just drop it, yeah?”  I tentatively scooted a few inches away, just letting him  _ have  _ the damn tree, but he made no move to follow.  Breaths shallow, I didn’t dare break eye contact -- until he did it for me, forcing his head to turn away on a controlled exhale.  A muscle twitched at his temple and his eyes closed.  

 

“When you regale me of your family, I will tell you of mine.”  

 

Oh.   _ Oh. _  Ohhhhhh shit.  “I am … sorry.  I didn’t mean -- I -- look, I’ll stop prying, but if you could maybe stop looking like you’re going to rip my throat out  _ that would be great. _ ”  Curiosity still burned in my chest as I tried to unravel a knot with no ends and came up with more questions than answers.  “I won’t ask again.”  

 

“Then you possess more restraint than I.”

 

With a wistful, sad smile, he sighed, and the clearing dissolved around us.  

 

I woke up in the back of a wagon with a start and immediately threw an arm over my eyes to shield from the noon sun.  “ _ Christ _ , a little  _ warning _ …”  I heard his chuckle not far off, and the nicker of his mount;  peeking around my elbow, I spied him two rows deep beyond the wagon, swaying in the saddle with a smirk that belied his Fade melancholy.  “How do you even sleep on horseback, anyways?”  

 

“Practice.”

 

“You up, Freckles?”  Varric slowed his pony to pull up beside the supplies, and I rolled to greet him -- there was only the faintest of twinges deep under my ribs.   _ Ollie was right.  Should be good by tomorrow, I think. _  My chin on the railing, I was nearly eye level with him for once.  “You’ve never seen Val Royeaux in person.  Figured you’d wanna.”  With a dazzling smile, he indicated our direction and I turned.  

 

My jaw dropped.  

 

The city was  _ gigantic _ , gleaming white, shiny and polished and oh-so-deluxe.  Monumental towers loomed over the skyline, plastered and pretty, capped in domes and spires of enameled gold and flecks of precious stones.  Crimson silk streamers swept between peaks, wove between buildings, wrapped around rails and fluttered in the wind, and everywhere you looked there was  _ color. _  The sea-blue splash of a wall here, the bright eruption of viridian foliage flowing, growing, cascading;  the pastels of an intricate mural, the bright, blood-red facade there, golden statues gaily posed intermittently throughout.  Already I could  _ smell _ the markets, the fine spices and  _ oh my god, frilly-fuckin’-cakes.  I get to eat Orlesian pastries.  If I hadn’t just almost died, I’d say this was heaven. _

 

Varric watched my eyes flit about with smug attentiveness, gracefully allowing me to take it all in.  “Well?  Got anything like that back home?”  

 

My voice was breathless;  the vista was worth it.  “Some places,” I whispered.  “But I only ever saw them in pictures.”  

 

Ignoring both the lingering discomfort and the protests of my favorite rogue, I clambered from the wagon and took my place beside his pony, wanting to be on my feet, to be in control, to see it  _ all _ , but all too soon I was put firmly in my place by a panting scout.  

 

“The Chantry mothers await you, but … so do a great many templars.”  

 

_ Well.  Time to get to work, then. _

 

“The other side of the market, yes?”  The scout gaped, but I strode past with a nod and dropped a hand on her shoulder as I went.  “Thank you.  We’ll take it from here.  Please observe, and when the Lord Seeker departs, take your report back to Haven.  We’ll be swinging through the Hinterlands on our way home.”  

 

Cassandra quickly stepped forward to match my stride.  “The Lord Seeker is here?”  

 

“Indeed.”  The market was already in view, faces already turned to us, whispers already reached us.  “I’m sorry, Cass.  You’re not going to like this.”  

 

Her lips pressed together in determination, and the four of us marched our way straight to the Chantry podium.  As soon as the Sister there caught a glimpse of us, her arms lifted to the sky and she began her little accented rant.  “Good people of Val Royeaux!  Together, we mourn our Divine, her naive and beautiful heart silenced by treachery!”  

 

_ Oh, yay.  They’ve already started.   _

 

“You wonder what will become of her murderer;  well, wonder no more.  Behold, the so-called ‘Herald of Andraste,’ claiming to rise where our beloved fell.”  

 

I could nearly feel the tension radiating from my squad behind me, but caution tempered their reactions, and they simply waited her out, as I did -- though probably with a little more patience, and less attitude.  I folded my arms across my chest, hips and brow cocked, and huffed.   _ This will never not be annoying. _

 

“We say this is a  _ false  _ prophet!  The Maker would send no elf in our time of need!”   _ Oh, right.  I’m… yeah, I’m still an elf.  Right.  That’s my cue, then. _

 

“You say that I am the enemy;  the Breach in the sky is our  _ true _ enemy, and we  _ must _ unite to stop it!”  

 

“It’s true!”  Cassandra stepped forward, desperation carved into the lines of her face, jaw tense.  “The Inquisition seeks only to end this madness before it is too late!”

 

With a sneer, the Sister lifted an hand to announce the entrance of the Lord Seeker.  “It is  _ already _ too late.”  A gasp darted through the crowd as Lucious took the wooden dais, templars at his flank, and I eyed the grotesque tint to his skin with narrowed eyes.  Cass looked between us both, eyebrows furrowed.  “The Templars have returned to the Chantry.  They will face this ‘Inquisition,’ and the people will be safe once more.”  

 

_ Three, two, one, aaaand…  _ the Sister hit the floor amongst more gasps as one of the Templars straight  _ clocked _ her from behind;  Cassandra’s hand flew to her mouth, as did mine, though where hers was in surprise I only tried to hide my smirk.   _ Oh, but she so deserved that, though. _

 

“Still yourself.  She is beneath us,” the Lord Seeker tried to reassure the Templars on the stage, and one of them cast his eyes away, conflicted.   _ Poor Ser Barris.   _ He was a good man with good doubts, I didn’t blame him for his indecision.   _ Maybe I can still save him, at least… _

 

“Good afternoon, Lord Corin.  I wasn’t aware the Seekers had risen so far above even the Chantry.”  Hands behind my back at typical parade rest, I returned his sneer with a predatory grin.   _ It would almost be worth it to side with the Templars just to rip you to shreds, Envy. _

 

Cassandra moved to intercept him and my smile waned.   _ Oh, honey. _  “Lord Seeker Lucius, it is  _ imperative _ that we speak with --”

 

“You will  _ not  _ address me.”  

 

My beautiful, glorious tank faltered in her steps, pulled up short.   _ Cass, I’m so sorry. _  “...Lord Seeker?”  

 

“Creating a heretical movement?  Raising up a puppet as Andraste’s prophet?  You should be ashamed.”   _ Damn, going for the jugular.  I probably… yeah, I probably should have warned her.   _ “You should  _ all _ be ashamed!  The Templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages!   _ You _ are the ones who have failed;  you, who’d leash our righteous swords with doubt and fear!”  His face contorted, attempted rage but only succeeded in malicious glee.  “If you came here to appeal to the Chantry, you are too late.  The only destiny here that demands respect is  _ mine. _ ”  

 

“So you came here to listen to your own posturing?  Adorable.”  Lord Seeker’s eyes swung to mine and narrowed;  I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of flinching, but the look there was … unnerving.   _ Is he  _ supposed  _ to look like he wants to gobble me up?  I mean, it fits the plot I guess, but … christ this is so weird in person. _

 

“I came to see what frightens old women so, and to  _ laugh _ .”  

 

Ser Barris approached the possessed Seeker, head hung but shooting glances in my direction.  “But, Lord Seeker… what if … she really was sent by the Maker?  What if --”  

 

The scraggly one, the one who’d punched the Sister, stepped forward, glaring down his nose at the  _ one damn good Templar left in this whole ridiculous city _ , and the hair rose at the back of my neck.   _ Yup, that’s it.  I’m gonna save him.  Don’t know how much that will mess up, if I go with the mages still, but… I’ll figure it out. _  “You are called to a higher purpose.  Do not question.”  

 

Blah blah, more grandstanding from the Seeker-turned-Demon, and the group of Templars left as a whole;  Barris trailed the group, cast a furtive glance over his shoulder, but obeyed.   _ I’m comin’ for ya, hon.  You’ll make it out of this. _  “Cass,”  I murmured to the fidgeting, frustrated woman on my left flank, “It’s not him.  I’ll explain later, but for now, just know that is  _ not _ the Lord Seeker.”  

 

“I--”  Seething, glaring at the gates through which they’d left, Cassandra finally deflated on a frustrated huff.  “Yes, Herald.”  

 

We helped the Sister to her feet, had our little convo -- I swore to her, repeatedly, that I made  _ no _ claims to divinity, and she was only slightly reassured -- and quickly moved on.  I scanned the marketplace for my second motivation for coming to Val Royeaux.  “Ah!  There!”  Solas retrieved the glowing arrow with a raised eyebrow, passing me the message, which I pocketed directly rather than read.  “Excellent.  Who’s up for a treasure hunt?”

 

The three of them exchanged a look.  

 

Even though I’d  _ tried _ to convince them it would be fun, there was an awful lot of grumbling even still as they stepped into a moonlit courtyard hours past dusk, and I just couldn’t bring myself to ruin the surprise.  Sure, Sera wouldn’t think much of an elfy Herald at first, but I figured I could get her to warm up eventually.  With the first round of guards laid out, I tried to hide my snicker.   _ No breeches! _

 

We opened the door at the top of the stairs, and I stepped aside to dodge the fireballs;, the pompous ass of a target strutted across his patio, preening and haughty, waiting for us.  “Herald of Andraste!  How much did you expend to discover me?  It must have --”  

 

“Nothing, actually.  We got a free tip.”  I threw him a jaunty wave as his chin dropped open in surprise;  the nobleman was aghast behind his mask, practically short-circuiting.  

 

And, right on cue, Sera burst through a side door, bow already drawn and sneer on her lips.  “Just say, ‘ _ what! _ ’”

 

“What is the --  _ hrkl! _ ”   _ Pity.  Never did find out his name.   _

 

“Squishy one, but ya heard me, right?  ‘Just say  _ what _ .’  Rich tits always try for more than they deserve.”  She stooped to retrieve her arrow, wiping it on his ridiculous brocade jacket.  “‘Blah, blah, blah, obey me,  _ arrow in mah face.’ _  So, you followed the notes well enough.  Glad to see you’re … aaaand you’re an elf.  Wow.  Hope you’re not so …  _ elfy. _ ”  

 

Politely ignoring Solas’ indignant huff behind me, my hand shot out on a smirk.  “Not as much as you’d expect.  You’re the local Jenny?  And, yes, I glow.  Herald-thingy, whole shebang.  Thanks for the tip.”  

 

Her eyes narrowed.  She looked me up and down once or twice with her head canted to the side before cautiously dropping her hand in mine, and I shook it gladly.   _ I am going to make you the  _ best _ cookies.  The BEST.   _ “Right, then.  Yeah.  It’s all good, innit?  So what about it, then?”  

 

“We could use the friends of Red Jenny.  The Inquisition isn’t only for the  _ rich tits _ .”  

 

She dropped my hand with a guffaw, slapped her hands on her belly.  “Ha!  Damn right.  Name’s Sera.  This is cover;  get ‘round it.  For the reinforcements.  Don’t worry;  someone tipped me their equipment shed.   _ They’ve got no breeches! _ ”  

 

And with that, the courtyard was overrun with pantsless guards.  

 

Cassandra dropped her first foe with a patented noise of disgust.  “ _ What _ in the  _ world  _ \--”

 

“ _ No breeches! _ ”  Sera’s laughter chimed off the walls as she bounced from one soon-to-be-corpse to the next.

 

“And you did not take their  _ weapons _ because…?”  

 

“Because  _ no breeches!   _ Ha!”  

 

The five of us made short work of the disoriented, depantsed soldiers, and Sera was still giggling when we regrouped, splattered gore and all.  “So, Herald of Andraste.  You’re a  _ strange _ one.  I’d like to join.”  

 

I'd been through this with her dozens of times;  I wouldn't want to do it again without her.   _ She's gonna  _ hate _ my backstory though, worse than the Breach and Solas and Coryphy-shit all rolled together.  I… will just have to cross that bridge when I come to it.  Probably with cookies.   _ “Sera, I would be  _ delighted _ if you'd join us.”  

 

“ _ Yes! _  Get in good before you’re too big to like.  That’ll keep your breeches where they should be.  Plus, extra breeches, because I have all these … you have merchants who buy that pish, yeah?  Gotta be worth somethin’.”  She shook her choppy blonde locks.  “Anyway, Haven.  See ya there, Herald.  This will be  _ grand _ .”  

 

Sera left us standing in the dark courtyard, and three pairs of concerned eyes swung to mine.  

 

“...I  _ was _ pretty sure you knew what you were doing,” Varric muttered, brows creased in not-entirely-joking confusion.  

 

I could only grin.  “Oh…  mostly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So
> 
> There's this theory about Sera and Andruil by Tumblr user shispan ( http://bit.ly/2CKbvmG )
> 
> ...I *really* like it and I *really* wanna play with it, but I dunno if I can do it justice, so I'm sharing it with all y'all because it's pretty damn well thought out. I only came across it while doing various research for itty-bitty details in this chapter and it blew my fuckin' MIND, so if you haven't seen that before, Merry Christmas! (To be clear -- I would never touch a fanon thing that wasn't mine without permission; I'm not going to ask or write it; twas just a cool theory I found and wanted to spread :D)
> 
> Mwuah! <3 Thank you for reading!


	6. Kiella

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group hangs out in Val Royeaux for a few days, and the Herald gets *smashed* at Vivienne's soiree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, about this. Notes about foreign languages in the end-note; I tried to keep all such in italics *and* I attempted hovertext *and* there’s translations at the bottom *and* I think I tweaked it to the point that if you need to skim past the French, context carries it. 
> 
> Possibly triggering passages, both in translations and in story text, are preceded and ended by [] for ease of bypass.

“This is _literally_ the best pastry I have _ever eaten._  Did _you_ make these?!”  

 

The elven woman blushed profusely, hands clasped demurely on the counter between us.  “Oui, madame.  I … made zem … dis morning.”  Her Common was halting, but she understood it well enough and she tried.  I smiled as I took another bite -- _ohmygoditsSOGOOD._

 

Solas paused beside me with his third frilly cake halfway to his mouth.  “Glorious.   _Decadent._ ”  Onto his fourth;  his eyes closed and he stilled as the flavor met his tongue.  Even Cass and Varric sat quietly at tables nearby, reverential if a tad more restrained.  

 

“If you _ever_ ,” I raised my eyebrows in emphasis, “get tired of Val Royeaux, I will _personally_ hire you on for the Inquisition.  Are they nice to you here?  Do they pay you well?”  

 

“Herald,”  Cassandra murmured, delicately dusting her fingers of crumbs even with a cheek full of cake, “Haven _has_ a baker.”

 

“Not like _her!_ ”  On a sigh I slapped five extra sovereigns on the counter just because I could.  “Mademoiselle, tu es la déesse du gâteau.  Treat yo’ self.”  

 

Eyes wide, she pocketed the coin and thanked us with a bright smile.  “ _Mon grand plaisir!   Merci beaucoup!  S'il vous plaît, revenir à tout moment!" _ ”  

 

I waved wistfully as we left, some of us more reluctant than others.  Varric nudged me once we were past the large bakery window.  “I dunno if you're familiar with tipping, but I think you just made her week.”

 

“Worth it.  I will _never_ forget those cakes.”

 

We were stuck in the city until Vivienne’s party tomorrow evening, and I had only three things I wanted to do until then:  eat, shop, and tour.  

 

Sightseeing with the squad wasn't so bad.  We wandered freely, and most of the citizenry seemed less hostile to our presence after the Templars had so violently abandoned them.  Varric soon split off when we came across a bookstore;  two blocks later, Cass made an awkward exit as if she totally wasn't going to the same place -- _I so saw that,_ I thought when I witnessed her dart from the back door of the armory and make a beeline for the back door of La Petite Plume.

 

The afternoon sun sparkled merrily across the water while Solas and I took a break at the docks.  He perched on the crate I leaned against as my toes dangled in the gentle waves.  It was easy to just hang out with him;  there was no pressure to fill the silence, and, despite his years -- maybe because of them -- he was just as content as I to simply enjoy the view.  When I started to drowse I gave myself a quick shake and hopped up, and Solas followed without a word.  

 

By the end of the first day I'd bought gifts for both new friends and not-yet friends, and my purse wasn’t even empty;  the weapons were easy enough to buy on requisition with an Inquisition promissory note -- a couple merchants squinted a bit, but to a one they took the credit -- and the other presents weren't terribly expensive.  Solas wouldn’t let me buy him a new staff, but caved with a little extra pressure;  his replacement after my “incident” had come from the surplus camp stock in the Hinterlands, and I’d heard him curse it more than once.

 

The inn was rowdy that night and we elected to hoard a pair of small tables on the quieter balcony just outside our rented rooms.  Canvas bag on my lap, I felt like Santa as I handed out wrapped gifts.  

 

“Hey thanks, Freckles.  How did you know I was running low?”  Varric withdrew a pair of inkwells and a bundle of quills from his box, smiling at the gold-embossed name brand on the bottles.  

 

“You're a _writer_ , Varric.  When are you not running low?”

 

“Fair point,” he chuckled.  

 

Cassandra’s hand trembled under the locket spread open on her palm, her eyes glued to the portraits inside.  “Is it okay, Cass?  It's totally fine if it's not!  I didn't know if--”

 

“Hera-- Melyria.”  Jaw tense and voice husky, she finally met my gaze.  “I don't know what to say.  I -- this is -- _Thank you._ ”  

 

My worry melted into relief and I smiled.  It had been relatively easy to find a tiny painting of the late Divine Justinia, but it had been _much_ harder to convince a local artist to attempt an equally-tiny painting from only a rough sketch of Regalyan.  It wasn't a photograph to be sure, but the likeness was still close.  The silverite pendant was exquisitely tooled with the symbol of the Chantry on the cover, and it dangled from a long, sturdy chain.  She slipped it over her head and settled it under her tunic.  

 

Solas tried to hand his box back to me.  “You _already_ bought --”

 

“Shut up and open your present, _hahren._ ”  

 

Eyes rolling, he obliged.  “When did you manage t-- ...Oh.”

 

 _Uh-huh.  Yup.  That’s what I thought._ “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah-- er, yes.”  His thin fingers gently examined the small pots of paint and sticks of wrapped pastels, rubbed the fine parchment, grazed the pressed charcoal.  “Ma serannas,” Solas murmured, unable to look up from the kit.  

 

The rogue stowed his own gift with a chuckle.  “What _else_ did you fit in that bag?  Presents for the whole Inquisition?  On a Qunari _dreadnaught?_ ”  

 

“Future stuff, mostly.  Gifts for advisors, friends.  Frilly cakes for Ollyn since he already left for Haven.  Oh, and there's more coming;  Solas already has his staff, but I found a nice frost rune for Bianca, and brand new daggers for Harding.  And Cass, I also got you this cool whetstone for your sword;  according to Solas, it's magicked for super-duper efficiency.”  

 

“Did you buy _nothing_ for yourself?”  Cassandra fidgeted with the chain at her neck, and I smiled again.  I couldn’t be sure she'd appreciate jewelry but I was glad to be wrong.  

 

“A couple b--”

 

“She bought _two dozen books_ , Cassandra,” Varric grinned. “I saw them delivered.  She couldn't carry them all.  Do you have _any_ gold left?”

 

I frowned into my coin purse.  “...well, silver.  But--”

 

The ever-fluctuating noise of the busy inn dropped to a whisper at a desperate wail outside, and resumed without delay;  we immediately stashed our belongings in our locked, warded rooms, and headed out to investigate.  Cool, salt-laden gusts snapped my braid about my neck as I spun on my heel in the deserted street, brows tented.  “Where?”

 

A distant scuffle in the alley across the market square sounded promising.  Varric hefted Bianca, waved her loaded bolt in that direction.  “ _Just_ a hunch.”  

 

 _Where the hell are all the guards?!_  We moved as a silent unit, splitting into pairs at Cass’ signal to approach from opposite sides of the gigantic fountain in the middle.  Solas shadowed the Seeker, and I padded ahead of Varric, blades at the ready;  the closer we stepped, the clearer we heard voices echoing from the grimy walls within.  

 

[]

 

“ _ Viens maintenant, jolie dame.  Tu vas l'aimer, je te promets. _ ”  An ear perked as I recognized him, pinned him as someone I’d met that day, but _who_ \-- “ _ Penses-tu que je ne vous vois pas dans celle boulangerie, comme vous me souriez tous les matins?  Penses-tu que je ne remarque pas que tu me regardes aiguiser les lames-- _”  Fucking sword merchant.  

 

“ _Non!  J’ai dit non, monsieur, non!_ Arrêtez _!  Laisse-moi partir--_ ”

 

Bile churning, I darted into the narrow passage without waiting for the others, unnoticed by -- _Shit, Marco?  Marvin?  Marinus?  MMmmmmm--_ Dead Guy;  I couldn't see the woman, but I _could_ see his shoulders jerk as he fought to trap her against the far wall deep in the shadows.  His breeches creased in sudden slack, he pawed at her skirts, and I _growled._

 

They froze for a breath at the noise, and when he started to turn she renewed her desperate struggle, flailed against him.  “ _Aidez, s'il vous plaît!   Aidez moi!  Aidez!_ ”

 

I was close.  Yards away.  My knuckles tightened against a hilt as I picked up speed, hackles rising.  

 

The dim flicker of a far torch glinted from the edge of Dead Guy’s elaborate, expensive mask as his hand found her neck, and he glanced back at me.  “ _Ne dérange pas, étranger.  Ce ne sont pas tes affaires.  Elle est seulement un elfe -- ”_

 

 

Mark crackling from whiplash fury, I reached with my left hand and yanked him to face me.  He stumbled into me, his belly to my chest;  feet planted to brace, my free hand snaked up his neck, and the merchant attempted to jerk back but my grip was solid.  Eyes widened on a grunt when one of his own products slid home between his third and fourth ribs.  

 

“ _ Et vous êtes seulement un cadavre _,” I whispered.  I held him aloft, held him against me, by my grip on his jaw and dagger in his heart, held him inches from my face, waiting, _watching_ the life dissolve from his sight.  

 

“Good riddance,” Varric muttered as my companions caught up, expressions hard as his corpse dropped to the stone with a sodden thud.

 

[]

 

I shivered when the adrenaline waned, and I turned my attention to the elf, easing down beside her with care.  “ _Mademoiselle?  C'est bien, c’est bien._ ”  Gingerly, mindful not to startle her, I laid a hand on her trembling shoulder, leaned to try and catch her eye.  “ _Tu es en sécurité. Il ne peut pas te faire de mal maintenant.  C’est bien._ ”  

 

Her breath hitching, she swiped at her eyes, hiccuped, and lifted her face.  

 

It was my cake goddess.

 

“Madame!”  she wailed as she threw her arms around my neck;  we nearly tumbled back to the flagstones together in a heap;  my ankle twisted unpleasantly as I scrambled for footing, but we held.  “ _Merci beaucoup!  Merci, madame, merci!  Je suis allé au magasin avec l'argent que vous m'avez donné!  Je n'y étais jamais allé auparavant, mais c'était un mois de salaire et je pensais ...  J'allais acheter une babiole pour mon frère, juste quelque chose de simple, mais cet homme était là, et il m'a suivi --_ ”

 

As she babbled into my shoulder I held her tight and raised my gaze to Varric's.  Cassandra sheathed her sword.  

 

“Herald, what is she saying?  I did not catch but half --”

 

“He followed her from a store.”  Solas’ lips pressed thin, angry.  

 

My fingers eased through her loose tresses, and I just let her cry.  “ _Because_ I gave her a giant tip.”

 

“...You couldn't have known, Freckles.”  

 

Solas draped his travel cloak over the disheveled woman while I rocked her in my arms, cold and wet stones biting into my knees.   _I did this.  If I hadn't been such a showoff --_ “ _Mademoiselle?  Je m'appelle Melyria Lavellan.  Comment tu t'appelle?_ ”  

 

“ _J-Je m’appelle Kiella, madame._ ”  She hiccuped again, sniffled -- Varric handed her a kerchief, she blessed her thanks and, gradually, she sat up on her own.  “ _Êtes-vous -- Je sais parler Commun si vous le souhaitez?_  I am … not v-very … good at C-Common, but --”

 

“ _Kiella, c'est bien.  Je suis à l'aise avec Orlesian._ ”  I smiled, and she tried to return it.  “ _C'est un plaisir de vous rencontrer, Kie.  Ton nom est aussi beau que tes pâtisseries.  Ce sont mes amis:_  Cassandra, Solas, et Varric,”  I indicated them in turn, and they each offered her a reassuring nod.  “ _Nous sommes avec l'Inquisition.  Pouvons-nous vous escorter à votre domicile?  Je veux m'assurer que vous pouvez vous reposer en toute sécurité ce soir_.”

 

Her eyes turned wary, darted around the alley.  “ _C-c-ce n'est p-pas un problème, madame. Je suis…  je suis sûr que je peux le faire moi-même…_ ”

 

“ _Je ne vais pas forcer ça, mais sachez que cela ne nous dérange pas du tout. Nous aimerions faire cela pour vous. Si vous voulez vraiment que nous partions, nous le ferons._ ”  

 

Kiella nodded.   _Finally._  “ _J'ai encore de l'or, je peux payer--_ ”

 

“ _Mais non!_ ”  I pushed her coin purse back against her chest, and she met my eyes, bewildered.  “ _Non, merci.  Non.  S'il vous plaît, gardez votre argent.  Nous souhaitons seulement vous voir en sécurité.  Vous n'avez pas besoin de nous payer._ ”

 

Though for a moment it looked as if she would cry again, Kiella nodded resolutely and stood, taking a deep breath;  I held her hands in mine and squeezed them, smiled, and she gave me her first real -- though timid -- grin.  “ _ Oui.  Merci, tout le monde. _”

 

“ _C’est notre grand plaisir, mademoiselle Kiella.  S'il vous plaît, montrer la voie._ ”  

 

***

 

Three and a half hours later -- _well_ after midnight, as my weary companions had no problem reminding me (repeatedly) we stumbled back into the inn.  Kiella was tucked in _and_ secured in her own home, and we stood together, dismayed at the winding flight of stairs between us and sleep.  

 

“Seeker, next time we wanna take a stroll through _Val Royeaux’s alienage_ at _two in the morning_ , I’m demanding a raise.”  

 

Solas reclined against the wall beside his room, content to close his eyes for just the moment it took Varric to unlock their door.  “You’re being _paid_?”  

 

Cassandra was too exhausted to fire back.  

 

I tossed the menfolk a grunt with my loose salute and leaned into our own dark room -- thanks for the assist, door -- with Cass immediately behind me.  Armor fell to the floor in rapid _thwumps_ , clattering in a messy pile around her bed, regardless of the muffled shouts and ceiling-punching below.  “Not that I do not _mind_ , Herald --”  She grunted from the shadows, and her last gauntlet fell;  faint groans wafted through the floorboards.  “...Well, I do not mind.  I don’t.   _I didn’t._ ”  

 

My weapons belt went -- softly, mindfully -- to the nightstand, and my backpack -- again, gently -- slouched on the floor.   _Fuck_ everything _else,_ I thought, and fell spread-eagle on the pokey mattress.   _First time I’ve ever been glad I don’t wear heavy armor._ “Sounds like yer tryin’ to convince yourself, there, Seeker.”  

 

Her frown was audible in her words.  “I’m … Maybe I am.”  In the blind silence that followed I assumed she fell asleep, but startled when she spoke again.  “You are … very kind.”  

 

“I appreciate y’all stayin’ with me.”  My head rolled to the side, out of the pillow.  “Wouldn’t have wanted to make _that_ walk of shame alone.”  

 

“Walk of --  No.  Well, that, yes, but --”  Insert disgusted sigh here;  whether for her or me, I’d never know.  “...I mean, thank you, again.  For the locket.”  

 

“Cassandra.”  With effort, I flipped onto my back.  The cowl bunched awkwardly about my neck, but aside from a half-hearted wiggle, I let it be.  Gradually my sight adjusted to the faint moonlight narrowly angling through the window, though everything beyond my bed remained pitch.  “I never … told you how -- how sorry I am, for your loss.  Justinia, _and_ Regalyan.”

 

Silence.

 

_...Uh._

 

 _...Okay NOW she’s asle--_ “Did you leave anyone behind?”   _Oh._  

 

“Not … really?  I -- well, I had a dog.”  

 

“A dog.”

 

“Yeeaaaah.  A doggo.  She has three legs.”

 

“Three --”  

 

This time, the irritated thump came from next to my shoulder;  either Varric or Solas was on the other side, and they were being a grumpypants.  

 

Cass scoffed, and I smiled into my twisted cowl.  

 

***

 

Solas hugged me.  

 

Brows furrowed, I patted his shoulder awkwardly, not _entirely_ sure about this turn of events.  “So, uh, I know you like art and all, but it wasn’t exactly the deluxe set -- ”

 

“It was perfect.  Thank you.”  With a shake of his head, he stepped back, hands on my shoulders and a faint smile on his face.   

 

“Uh, you’re welcome?”  The Dread Wolf just fuckin’ snorted.   _Rude._  

 

“ _Parlez-vous Elvhen aussi bien que vous parlez Orlesian?_ ”  Solas waved a hand, and our normal spot in the very center of my favorite clearing suddenly sported several blindingly-white poufs.  Grinning, he waved me over to join him as he sat, and I hesitantly followed suit.

 

“ _Melyria fait. Moi, je ne._  Oh my gods, Solas, tell me this isn’t _real halla --”_

 

“Not in the _Fade_.”  

 

“...right, then.  I thought you hated Orlesian, anyway?”  

 

Solas chuckled.  “All knowledge is worth having.  Though why I _truly_ bring it up is another question still:  would you like to meet a friend?”  He grinned, all Scholar, as he leaned back upon his palms and reveled in my shock.   _You… really?  Are you KIDDING of COURSE I --_

 

“Solas, wait.  I am _immensely_ flattered, but before you call her, there’s something I need to tell you.”  I bit my lip when he stilled.  “It’s -- I’m _going_ to tell you, if you want to know, damn the risks.”  

 

Thank the gods, but his expression wasn’t aggressive as he sat forward and clasped his hands atop his knees.  He looked open, attentive, concerned;  apparently, we were finally past that little trust barrier.  “And it has to do with Wisdom?”  

 

“Yeah.”  My legs folded criss-cross applesauce as I faced him.  “So, like … uh, game time is a little fuzzy, but in the _game_ it happened after the Inquisition set up shop in Skyhold --”  

 

“-- _set up shop in Sk--_ ”  

 

“Hang on -- no, hang on, just -- hang _on,_ this is _important_ \-- it could happen earlier, or later, or whatever, but at some point a group -- _hush!_ \-- a group of mages in the Exalted Plains is going to summon Wisdom, to protect themselves, and force her -- Solas, she’s going to _turn into Pride._  They’re going to corrupt her out of ignorance.  In the game, even if we leave as soon as you find out, we … it’s too late, then.”  

 

He paled.  “Are you sure?”

 

 _Would I_ joke _about this?  Would_ anyone?!  “Yeah, I’m … as positive as I _can_ be.  It’s a pretty major event in your character arc, so I would assume it would translate to -- uh, reality.”  

 

Solas shook his head. “ _Tel’an serannas, ma falon._ ”  

 

“It is … literally the least I could do?”  

 

 _Christ, I’ve never seen him look so serious.  …aha.  Y so srs, Chuckles?_ “This goes beyond the requirements of our truce.  I will have a chance to take precautions, and I understand the risk you are taking in telling me, Shae.   _Thank.  You._ ”  

 

Hiding behind my knees, I lifted a shoulder, stared at the grass between our pillows.  “Yeah, well ... I could use your input on something else about the future, though.”  

 

Eager, now, he readjusted to better face me.  “Of course.  How may I assist?”

 

“We’re gonna have a choice soon.”  As best I could, I outlined the general scenario required prior to closing the Breach.  “...and the Templars and Mages are mutually exclusive.  Whichever we _don’t_ choose will join Corypheus’ red lyrium minions.”

 

Solas lay across a large beige pouf, listening;  we’d both fidgeted around in the minutes past, re-arranging pillows for comfort and distraction.  A finger tapped against his opposite bicep, arms folded across his chest as he stared at the canopy, weighing.  “The Lord Seeker is an Envy demon, and the mages have been enslaved unto the Imperium.”  

 

“And it gets worse.”  I winced.  “If I go to the Templars, I’ll have to fight and defeat an Envy demon, _in my head --_ if I lose, it’ll know everything _I_ do but it won’t give a _damn_ about our truce -- but if we go to the mages, I’ll be sent to a doomed timeline where Corypheus wins and have to fight my way back.”  Gray eyes swung to mine, jaw slack.  “Yeah, so, uh… time magic is gonna be a thing here real soon.”  

 

“There is no such thing.”  His brows furrowed as if he wasn’t quite convinced.  “The People --”  

 

Eyes closed, I shook my head and his voice faltered.  “Likely _using_ Elvhen magical theory, an altus and a Magister created an entirely new branch of magic.  It’s _ridiculously_ unreliable, in its infancy, really.  The altus abandoned the project -- he’ll be joining us, by the way --  there’s a corporeal spirit of Compassion, named Cole,  and he joins us, too -- but Alexius finished it, with Corypheus.  Fiona will contact us before we leave this city, but thanks to _fuckin’ time magic,_ she won’t remember it.  They’ll be slaves when we show up.  We’ll have to go to Redcliffe eventually, anyways, just to deal with the mess alone.”  

 

Solas pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes and groaned to the sky in frustration.  “And if we take the mages, every Templar in Thedas will stand against us.  But either will successfully close the Breach?”  

 

“Yes.  And…”  I tucked my head, and with my knees drawn up in that fashion I fell to my side in a ball, onto a pouf the color of the sky.  “...Even if none of you will remember it, you’ll still suffer through an entire year of excruciating torture in a doomed timeline, and I don’t know if I can do that to you.  To any of you.”  

 

“But if we do not _remember_ \--”  

 

“Before the timeline can complete, you’ll still spend a year in the Redcliffe dungeons.  Some version of you -- a version who will remember this conversation -- will have to experience it.  You will be captured, tortured, and you’ll be convinced you watched me die.  You will be fed red lyrium, and then farmed.  You will watch the world break and bleed.  You’ll lose all hope.  And then you’ll sacrifice yourselves in front of me to undo it all, and _I can’t ask you to do that._  When the choice is ‘take on the big-bad inside my own head’ versus ‘let my very-real friends go through _literal, actual hell_ ,’ it gets _really hard_ to still think of it as only mages versus Templars.”  

 

Nausea roiled, and neither of us really wanted to talk about it anymore.  I counted fifteen heartbeats before I dove back in.  “What, no advice?”

 

“None.”  I couldn’t see his face, buried in the crook of his elbow as it was.   _Same, buddy._  “Have you told anyone else?”  

 

“You’re the first.”  My arm flopped out, lazily patted his shoulder and sagged to the ground between us.  “Congrats.  And _then_ , after --”

 

“Shae.”  

 

 _Oops._  “Ir abelas, hahren.”

 

His hand fell to his side and he turned to look at me.  “Tel’abelas.  All knowledge is worth having, as I said.”  

 

“Still, it’s a lot to take in, I know.  We’re not quite there yet, so if ever you wanna know more, just ask.  But we don’t have to talk about it right _now,_ anyways.”  

 

Sighing, he rose.  “Do you still wish to meet Wisdom?”  

 

“I do, but …”   _How is it possible to be exhausted in a_ dream?!  “... tomorrow night, I think.”  

 

“Agreed.  Rest, and let your mind wander as it wills.”  The Fade began to sluice away in that familiar, slightly-uncomfortable way, and Solas attempted a forlorn smile.  “Ma serannas, lethallan.”

 

***

 

“Lady Lavellan, on behalf of the Inquisition.”  

 

The announcement hung in the suddenly-hushed foyer, and every single one of the many, many heads turned to appraise me;  some were curious glances, others murderous glares, but there were a _lot_ more of either than I had expected.  Madame de Fer certainly did _not_ host the wimpy get-together from the game;  this was a full-blown Event, and it was crowded as hell.  I immediately had multiple regrets, namely that I hadn’t brought backup and that I had decided against a dress.  “ _It’s only gonna be about a dozen people,_ ” I had thought.  “ _It’s not like it’s the Winter Palace_.”  Whoops.  

 

The announcer closed his long scroll and eyed me, brow raised when I lingered, and I tentatively stepped into the throng.  There was a strange shifting of the tides as those who seemingly supported the Inquisition pressed forward, surrounding me, while the disinterested and the disgusted moved further away.  

 

“What a pleasure to meet you, my lady.”  First and foremost was the same couple from the game, though framed by many more onlookers.  “Seeing the same faces at every event becomes so tiresome.”  

 

“You must be a guest of Madame de Fer -- or are you here for Duke Bastien?”  I wasn’t prepared for the sudden script-chopping, and my head swung to the new voice.  

 

“I, uh --”

 

“Are you here on business?” a lady asked me, though I could only really see her nose beneath that huge hat and above that ridiculous collar.  “I have heard the most curious tales of you!  I cannot imagine half of them are true.”  

 

“Right.  Well --”  

 

“Are you _truly_ the Herald of Andraste?”  a man asked by my side.

 

“I’m -- no, I just --”  

 

A different hand gently reached for the hilt of one of my daggers, awed.  “Are you going to close the hole in the sky?”  

 

“That’s the --”  

 

“Do you know who killed the Divine?”  Her voice was a little squeakier than the rest.  

 

“We’re trying to --”  

 

“Why did the Templars abandon us?”  “Will the Inquisition march on Val Royeaux?”  “Do you support Duke Gaspard or Empress Celene?”  “Why are you an elf?”   _Rude_ .  “Did Andraste send you to punish us for our treatment of the elves?”   _Uh --_ “Of _course_ She did, why else would she be--”  “But no one _knows_ , we can only guess --”  “She’s so _tiny_ \--”

 

The conversation was awkward and overwhelming, fingers were prodding my weapons, my shoulders, pinching muscle and gently pushing to check balance -- are you _kidding_ me?! -- hands turned me this way and that, trying to both get my attention and size me up.  Before I could choke out an excuse to run, a serene voice at my shoulder saved the day.  “Ladies and gentlemen, _please_ .  Lady Lavellan is my guest, not some curious trinket to be examined and interrogated.”  

 

A wave of murmured apologies and halting bows begged her forgiveness, and soon the crowd returned to its normal density -- not much of an improvement, but I could breathe.  With a huff, I turned a smile to Vivienne.  “Merci beaucoup, Madame.  I … am a tad out of my element.”  

 

The Iron Lady afforded me a charming smile in return along with the smallest of curtseys.  “And what kind of host would I be were I to leave my most important guest to fend for herself?”  Her delicate fingers snagged a pair of champagnes from a passing servant’s tray, and she gracefully extended one of the flutes to me.  “I’m delighted you could attend this little gathering.  I’ve _so_ wanted to meet you.”  Vivienne gestured to a secluded side room and moved away, the crowd parting as easily as if by a wish, with me trailing in her wake.  

 

She led me to the same window from the cutscene and set her untouched glass on the sill.  “Allow me to introduce myself properly.  I am Vivienne, First Enchanter of the Montsimmard Circle, and Enchantress to the Imperial Court.”  

 

As best I could with no training and in my scout leathers, I curtseyed.  “It is truly an honor, Madame de Fer.  Thank you for inviting me.”  

 

The corner of her mouth ticked a little higher.  “Ah, but I didn’t invite you to the Chateau for pleasantries.  With Divine Justinia dead, the Chantry is in shambles.  Only the Inquisition might restore sanity and order to our frightened people.  As the leader of the last loyal mages in Thedas, I feel it only right that I lend my assistance to your cause.”  

 

“The Inquisition would be delighted to have your assistance, Lady Vivienne.”  Sure, she might be set in her ways, but no more than Solas or Cassandra, I figured.  

 

“Great things are beginning, my dear;  I can promise you that.”  In person like this, her grin seemed to be one tinted with relief, and I briefly wondered at her character’s reception back home;  some had assumed every move she made was duplicitous, but beneath the Game was genuine concern for the fate of the world, and I couldn’t find it in me to fault her for it.  “Please, do stay and enjoy the festivities.  There will be an acrobatic performance at ten bells, and dessert after.  Have you ever seen a chocolate fountain?”

 

 _Chocolate.  There’s chocolate here.  Oh my sweet keysmash, I miss chocolate._ “...Well, I honestly had planned to head back to the Inquisition directly after meeting you, but if there’s a _chocolate fountain_ \--”

 

“The Inquisition?  What a load of _pig shit._ ”  

 

Awww, and things had been going so nicely.  

 

A masked marquis sauntered over, chuckling and shaking his head.  Later party banter between Viv and Cole might reveal that she had intended this confrontation, but a quick glance her way had me frowning;  her ire wasn’t faked.   _Something’s wrong.  His timing is off, but either she’s a damn good actress or she didn’t actually want him to interfere.  Or maybe it’s because it’s not public anymore?  Wait, why even…?  Oh.  Oh shit._ Right _.  Racism.  Fuck._

 

Which made a bit more sense when she stepped just a hair further away from him -- mostly controlled, of course, looking as casual as any player of the Game could, but pure repulsion demanded the shift away and I marvelled at her restraint;  dude deserved to have his face bashed in.  

 

“Washed up Sisters and crazed Seekers.”   _Hey, buddy, those are my friends you’re shit-talking._ “No one can take them seriously.  Everyone knows it’s just an excuse for a bunch of political outcasts to grab power.”  The Marquis waved an inebriated hand as if swatting a fly.  

 

Vivienne gestured in some mage-y way and, as per the game, he was frozen in place.  “My _dear_ Marquis.  How unkind of you to use such language in _my_ house, to _my_ guest.”  She cocked a hip, arms folded and eyes narrow, and I _really_ wanted to see her smash him, but … “You know such rudeness is intolerable.”

 

“M-my Lady, I -- I humbly b-beg your pardon --”  

 

“You _should._  Whatever am I going to do with you, my dear?”  Madame de Fer eyed me through her mask.  “My Lady, you’re the wounded party in this unfortunate affair.  What would you have me do with this foolish, foolish man?”  

 

 _WRECK HIM, VIV._ “The Marquis doesn’t interest me.  Please, do as you like with him.”  

 

She tutted as she stroked his chin, helpless as he was.  “Poor Marquis, issuing challenges and hurling insults like some Fereldan dog lord.”  Vivienne stepped back and defrosted him with a wave.  “And all dressed up in your Aunt Solange’s doublet.  Didn’t she give you that to wear to the Grand Tourney?  To think, all the brave chevaliers who will be competing left for Markham this morning… and you’re still here.  Were you hoping to sate your damaged pride by defeating the Herald of Andraste in a public duel?  Or did you think her sword would end the shame of your failure?”  

 

The Marquis bowed his head.   _Get stuffed, dickwad._

 

“Run along, my dear, and _do_ give my regards to your Aunt.”  

 

I couldn’t help my goofy grin as he beat feet to the door.  “Feel better?”  

 

Her eyebrows raised along with her lips as she smirked; there was no mistaking the twinkle in her eye.  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, darling.”  

 

By eleven bells I was full of booze and chocolate -- hey, it’d been a while since I could let loose, okay? -- despite having spent most of my time in the servants quarters, chatting with the elves;  it felt weird partying with masks and finery when I wasn’t wearing either, and the sous chef alone was more interesting than half the guests combined.  At one point (probably around the time I got “lost” in the pantry), he came looking for me.  

 

“Madame,” he murmured, squatting down into my range of vision;  I squinted up at him, trying to figure out why he’d never told me he had a twin.  “Not zat we do not appreciate ze company, but… it is getting late, and … well, where are your companions?  May I send for zem?”  

 

“Cheff-Jo-Seff _,_ why’re there twooooo of ya?”  I cuddled a bag of flour.  “I have _weaponsss_ , ssir.  I’ll be f-fine.”  For some reason, he -- and the whole world -- whirled, and I lay on the floor confused as all get out.  “Why are you ssideways?”  I whispered.  “ _Sssavais-tu que je parle Orlésssien?  Je faaaaais._ ”  

 

Best Friend Chef-Josef sighed and stood.  “Are zey staying at ze inn by ze main square?”

 

“ _Lezz fontainezz de chocolat devraient être illégaaaaaales._ ”

 

My eyes closed for just a moment, I swear, but when I opened them, there was a familiar set of legs in front of my face and I could practically sense the frown just radiating off him.  “Sooooooollllaaassssss!  Bes’ friend!  You’re _heeere_.  That was … quick.”  

 

“Indeed.”  He crouched, twisted his head oddly so he could peer into my eyes down by the floor;  I’d never seen someone look crossly amused before, but there it was.  “You seem to be indisposed.”

 

Chef Josef returned and, eyeing me somberly, patted Solas on the back with a grimace.  “The back door might be best, monsieur.  Merci.”  

 

My favorite elven apostate grabbed each of my wrists and hauled them over his shoulders as he turned his back to me, and with a grunt, he stood;  a little hop to adjust, and my knees rested in the crook of his elbows, my arms dangling down the front of his chest.  “I believe it is I who should be thanking you, Chef Josef.”  

 

The stout man nodded.  “Take care of her.”  

 

Chilled sea air stung my cheeks as we stepped into the alley.  A torch flickered nearby and I groaned, pressed my cheek into Solas’ shoulder.  “Mmf.  Bright.  Why pigby-pack?”  

 

He turned to glance at me just to make sure I could see his eyeroll without breaking his even stride.  “Is _that_ what it’s called?  I could drag you, if you prefer.”  

 

“Pleeeeaaase no.” _It’s too soon for my head to be pounding.  Christ, I’m gonna have a hell of a hangover._

 

Solas chuckled softly as we turned a corner;  if I squinted my eyes just right, I could see the main square just down the street.  “Do you _often_ drink yourself unto oblivion, or was the party simply that enjoyable?”  

 

“Nope-nope.  Nope to bof -- both.”  My arms tightened about his shoulders and I sighed into his neck.  He was graceful, I’d give him that;  I barely jostled at all with his steps.  “Jus’ when I gots ‘mposs’ble deeeeecisionz.  To… like, _decide_ and stuff.  And _lezz domestiques étaaaaaaient gentiiiils_.”  He hummed noncommittally.  “ _Le chef Jozef est drôle. Et Kiella est jolllliiiieee.  Et Sssera.  Vous êtes jooollliiie.  Pourquoi lezz elfessssont-ilz tous beaux?_ ”  

 

“A question for the ages, lethallan.”  Varric hovered by the door of the inn ahead, arms folded and smirking at our approach.  “And yet, you did not include yourself in that list.”  

 

I groaned and buried my face in my bicep, over his shoulder;  my words were muffled by his tunic, which didn’t help the slurring, I’m sure.  “ _Pas d'elfe.  Pas mon visaaaage.  Vous oublié?_ ”  

 

My favorite rogue admitted my favorite apostate and myself through the door, holding it wide so my knees wouldn’t bump the wood as we passed.  “The Seeker’s out like a candle.  I’m supposed to pass a message to you, Herald.”  

 

Solas paused for my benefit, one foot on the stair, and turned me to face Varric.  “Mmm?  She mad?  I bet she’s maaaaaad.”  

 

“She said, and I quote:  ‘ _ugh.’_ ”  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**TRANSLATIONS**

**(in the bakery)**

_Mademoiselle, tu es la déesse du gâteau_ :  Miss, you are the goddess of cake.    


_Mon grand plaisir!   Merci beaucoup!  S'il vous plaît, revenir à tout moment!_  :  My great pleasure!  Thank you so much!  Please, come back any time!  

  
  


[]

  


  
**(in the alley)** **  
** “ _Viens maintenant, jolie dame.  Tu vas l'aimer, je te promets._ ”  :  Come now, pretty lady.  You’ll like it, I promise.  

  
“ _Penses-tu que je ne vous vois pas dans celle boulangerie, comme vous me souriez tous les matins?  Penses-tu que je ne remarque pas que tu me regardes aiguiser les lames--_ ”  :  Did you think I couldn’t see you in that bakery, how you smiled for me every morning?  Did you think I didn’t notice how you watched me sharpen the blades--

  
“ _Non!  J’ai dit non, monsieur, non!  Arrêtez!  Laisse-moi partir--_ ”  :  No!  I said no, sir, no!  Stop!  Let me go--

  
_“Aidez, s'il vous plaît!  Aidez moi!  Aidez!”_ :  Help, please!  Help me!  Help!

 

“ _Ne dérange pas, étranger.  Ce ne sont pas tes affaires.  Elle est seulement un_ elfe _\--_ ”  :  Don’t bother, stranger.  It is not your business.  She is only an elf --

 

“ _Et vous êtes seulement un cadavre_ ”  :  And you are only a corpse.

  
  


[]

  
  


**(saving Kiella)**

“ _Mademoiselle?  C'est bien, c’est bien._   _Tu es en sécurité. Il ne peut pas te faire de mal maintenant.  C’est bien._ ” :  Miss?  It’s okay, it’s okay.  You’re safe.  He can’t hurt you now.  It’s okay.  

 

 _“Madame!  Merci beaucoup!  Merci, madame, merci!  Je suis allé au magasin avec l'argent que vous m'avez donné!  Je n'y étais jamais allé auparavant, mais c'était un mois de salaire et je pensais ...  J'allais acheter une babiole pour mon frère, juste quelque chose de simple, mais cet homme était là, et il m'a suivi --”_  :  Madam!  Thank you so much!  Thank you, ma’am, thank you!  I was going to the store with the money you gave me!  I had never been there before, but it was a month’s salary and I thought …  I was going to buy a bauble for my brother, just something simple, but that man was there, and he followed me --

 

“ _Mademoiselle?  Je m'appelle Melyria Lavellan.  Comment tu t'appelle?_ ”  :  Miss?  My name is Melyria Lavellan.  What’s your name?  

 

“ _J-Je m’appelle Kiella, madame._   _Êtes-vous -- Je sais parler Commun si vous le souhaitez?_ ”  :  My name is Kiella, madam.  Do you -- I can speak in Common if you wish?

 

“ _Kiella, c'est bien.  Je suis à l'aise avec Orlesian._   _C'est un plaisir de vous rencontrer, Kie.  Ton nom est aussi beau que tes pâtisseries.  Ce sont mes amis:_  Cassandra, Solas, et Varric.   _Nous sommes avec l'Inquisition.  Pouvons-nous vous escorter à votre domicile?  Je veux m'assurer que vous pouvez vous reposer en toute sécurité ce soir_.”  :  Kiella, it’s okay.  I am comfortable with Orlesian.  It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kie.  Your name is as beautiful as your pastries.  These are my friends:  Cassandra,  Solas, and Varric.  We’re with the Inquisition.  Can we escort you home?  I want to make sure you can rest safely tonight.  

 

“ _C-c-ce n'est p-pas un problème, madame. Je suis…  je suis sûr que je peux le faire moi-même…_ ”  :  It’s not a problem, ma’am.  I am sure I can do it myself…

 

“ _Je ne vais pas forcer ça, mais sachez que cela ne nous dérange pas du tout. Nous aimerions faire cela pour vous. Si vous voulez vraiment que nous partions, nous le ferons._ ”  :  I'm not going to force it, but know that it doesn’t bother us at all.  We would like to do this for you.  If you really want us to leave, we'll do it. "

 

“ _J'ai encore de l'or, je peux payer--_ ”  :  I still have some gold, I can pay--

“ _Mais non!_   _Non, merci.  Non.  S'il vous plaît, gardez votre argent.  Nous souhaitons seulement vous voir en sécurité.  Vous n'avez pas besoin de nous payer._ ”  :  But no!  No, thank you.  No.  Please, keep your money.  We only want to see you safe.  You don’t have to pay us.

 

“ _Oui.  Merci, tout le monde._ ”  :  Okay.  Thank you all.  

 

“ _C’est notre grand plaisir, mademoiselle Kiella.  S'il vous plaît, montrer la voie._ ”  :  It’s our great pleasure, Miss Kiella.  Please, lead the way.   

  


**(in the Fade)**

“ _Parlez-vous Elvhen aussi bien que vous parlez Orlesian?”_  :  Do you speak Elven as well as you speak Orlesian?  

 

 _“Mel fait. Moi, je ne.”_ :  Mel does.  Me, I don’t.  

 

(Elvhen) “ _Tel’an serannas, ma falon.”_ :  (My clumsy attempt at) “I cannot thank you enough, my friend.”  

  


**(with Chef Josef)**

“ _Sssavais-tu que je parle Orlésssien?  Je faaaaais._ ”  :  (slurred)  Did you know I speak Orlesian?  I doooo.

 

“ _Lezz fontainezz de chocolat devraient être illégaaaaaales._ ”  :  (slurred)  Chocolate fountains should be illegal.  

  


**(piggy-back ride)**

“(And) _lez domestiques étaaaaaaient gentiiiils._ ”  :  (slurred)  And the servants were nice.  

  
  
“ _Le chef Jozef est drôle. Et Kiella est joliiiieee.  Et Sssera. Vous êtes joooliiie. Pourquoi lezz elfessssont-ilz tous beaux?_ ”  :  (slurred)  Chef Josef is funny.  And Kiella is pretty.  And Sera.  You’re pretty.  Why are elves all so pretty?  

 

 _“Pas d'elfe. Pas mon visaaaage. Vous oublié?”_ :  (slurred)  Not elf.  Not my face.  Forget you (intended to say:  did you forget)?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanna take a second and say that “And you are only a corpse” is probably the most badass one-liner I’ve written to date.
> 
> My french is *really* rusty, so if any francophones wanna wop me over the head with something, that’s cool, I understand. :) And that is *my* doggo’s cameo; her name is Bailey and she indeed has only three legs and we luff her. She’s an old pupper, and all she wants outta life is sleep and cuddles and food. <3 LOVE YA BAI-BAI. If you're interested, we consider this her theme song: http://bit.ly/2F99giZ
> 
> And, yes, Shae's dog is fine, even with Shae missing. ;) We'll see how later on.
> 
> I’ve been waffling over using Project Elvhen in later chapters rather than my amateur, piecemeal attempt at Elvhen, AND I’ve never ever used the hovertext feature before? So, please let me know if this system works for you. If it doesn’t, or if you’re mobile and it’s *so* mobile-y, and ye tell me, I’ll figure something else out. <3


End file.
